Tangled Tumultuous Webs of Fate
by Lady Silq Ice
Summary: When a Dalish trips in the woods... will her fate change completely? With the Blight ended and the Fall of Kirkwall complete what are two heroes to do?  F!Mahariel/M!Hawke  Rated for later violence, language, possible dark themes, and intimacy.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I was in class and this popped out. Not sure why, but it wouldn't stop scratching inside my head. Depending on responses I may continue, I may not. I have so much I'm working on, but this pairing just... jumped out at me. Let me know what you think...

* * *

><p>She ran. Running was so much easier. Simpler. The act of forcing one foot before the other in a punishing mantra was cathartic, soothing to the tortured soul. Three days out, only pausing to partake of water, the shadow, the overwhelming nightmare she'd left behind still hounded her, urging her on, eager to grow the distance. There was no traumatic occurrence she was fleeing or a horrific scene to drown out with her harried breaths; more a decade of ache. A life uprooted and slowly shattered, bit by bit until nothing but a twisted, broken shell remained of a once vibrant and innocent being, eager to see the future the world may impart. Cruel irony dictated a cold wake up call.<p>

Many would decry her decision, bandy about accusations of duties shirked and a nation left without. There were no shirked duties, just a people wholly dependent on one person to fulfill their every need. So long had they pawed, clung to and drug her down she had forgotten what freedom felt like. The cold walls of her responsibilities had so chained her that even the subtle call of nature felt almost foreign; her ranger's senses gloried in this renewed assault. Oh the travesty! The horror! The mere thought of losing their beloved King's Commander sent tremors to their very cores! Tree branches reached for her, not to slow her; pale skin rejuvenated by the welcoming embrace of her place of true belonging.

Nothing remained for her amongst those walls of brick, stone and shaped wood. Not even _him_. Incrementally her pace increased at the thought of _him_, eager to amplify the growing space between. Silent tread despite her pace, dark hair whipped about her face, neck and shoulders, tangled with her bow, but she paid it no heed. The great Hero of Ferelden bounded like a halla, intent on leaving the kingdom of her heroes fame far behind. Indeed she'd done her duty; they had no further need of her except to cling to an icon past her time. Better she had died with the archdemon.

She knew this to be an untruth even as the thought flitted through her mind, but it was a liberating consideration, none-the-less. Her sensitivity to the darkspawn had only increased over the years, aiding her greatly in the pursuit of and subsequent submission of The Architect and the demise of the spume spewing 'Mother.' Supposition never able to be confirmed her responsive darkspawn sense was due to long exposure to the plague before induction to the Wardens. She was quite ill before she drank of the chalice; grayness hedged her pale face and whitened her eyes while blackening the sockets. As it was, much of the evidence remained. Dark veins trekked her angular jaw and trespassed a short way onto her chiseled cheeks. Already extremely pale blue, her eyes never retained all their original blue color, instead fading to a silvery blue, shadows made them larger and more gaunt than her nature called for. The dark lines of her vallaslin only further accentuated her pale skin, the elegant lines of her ears protruding from her hair were broken on her left side where a large chunk of the ear was missing; the milky skin around marred by scarring.

Though small in stature, her appearance aided greatly in garnering the fear of her enemies, as to look at her face in combat was to witness the cold precision of a master Dalish archer. A full head shorter than the normal elven male, height was never an issue during command for the Warden. Never shout. Never show anything but suppressed anger. Silence and the eerie coldness of her stare was always more than plenty to send grown men scrambling for cover. You did not cross the Warden Commander.

How tiring was this? To be revered. To be feared. To be honored. None of this she wanted. Then the one solace in her storm, the harbor from the pain, the loss, the sorrow; this was taken from her too. Purposefully done and without backward glance. Her pace increased once more.

To say she was startled to plow headlong into a small, one man camp would be a gross understatement. The smoldering coals let off no smoke or smell and the clearing barely long enough to house the single occupant. In the blink of an eye momentum was reversed and found her in a crouch just within the safety of the tree line, huge longbow taut. Cold albeit surprised eyes were met with an equally shocked and equally ready opponent, wicked daggers in hand similarly crouched directly across from her. _A shemlen? This far in the Dales?_

"Who are you and why do you intrude in the Dales?" she hissed quietly as though she would disturb the very rest of the ancient forest around them. He cocked his head at her curiously, reminding her of her mabari. Poor Widget.

"I might ask you the same question. _You_ did after all burst so very rudely into _my_ camp," she cocked her head and the man couldn't help staring at her. There was no doubt in his mind she was Dalish, her elegantly made bow and vallaslin gave that away. Her leathers however, though Dalish in make were modified far beyond what was considered normal for a hunter. Of course the ears were another dead giveaway. But her face was what drew the bulk of his consideration. In the shadows of the moonless night she had a haunted appearance; dark circles lined her eyes, her pale skin had unnatural shadows along her jaw and neck. But her eyes, almost too large for her face, threatened to swallow him whole, the glinting silvery depths beckoned him in the darkness.

Evaluations were done on both sides. It took little for her to realize he would tower over her when extended to full height, not that this was difficult. The rugged lines of his features, the scruffiness of his face, wolfish bright blue eyes, his accent… he was Ferelden! The armor he wore was odd however; the spikes and straps spoke of Kirkwall design, a city in the Free Marches. Perhaps, if her luck held, he wouldn't recognize her. Ports and villages of Ferelden had been carefully avoided for that very reason. The less anyone knew of her whereabouts the smaller the chance of being tracked.

With small appraising steps she began to circle the edge of his tiny camp, prepared to spring into action if the need called for it.

"Fine, let's be specific," she said, her accent lilting her words, "these are the Dales. Elven territory by most consideration. Your little camp notwithstanding, you are somewhere you don't belong. Why," her deadly bow was sighted flawlessly to his right eye and he couldn't help wondering how someone so small wielded such a large bow with practiced ease.

"And what's a Dalish doing heading toward Orlesian territory? There are no clans north of here," _how could he know that?_ She struggled to keep the shock off her features as she continued moving, noting his mirror movements. A question was twice answered with another question. If he kept his up she was tempted to simply back from the light of the camp into the welcoming darkness of the forest and melt away. Abruptly he sheathed his daggers, the movement as smooth and natural as if the blades were a very part of him, then he held out his hands, palms facing her in a gesture of peace.

"Look, I mean you no harm. Even if I did, you look like you could handle it," he eyed her appraisingly and she shifted a little uncomfortably. He chuckled at her discomfort. "You look like you've been running a long time. As long as your pursuers aren't right on your tail, which considering how far we are from civilized land I would think they aren't, let me re-stoke the fire and you can share it as long as you will," he raised his eyebrows in question and spread his hands further, a small smile graced his angular features.

Slowly she lowered her bow and stowed it, sliding the arrow she'd nocked back into the quiver he noted with interest was latched to her lower back and thigh. It took a few more moments of assessment before she stepped warily into the camp itself, still watching him guardedly.

"I'm Hawke, by the way. Reven Hawke," her eyes widened minutely and he sighed. "Damnit, even here in the Dales? That isn't fair," he sat down with a huff, but there was a teasing twinkle in his eye that was achingly familiar… only auburn hair… she shook herself mentally.

"Well, one ironic turn deserves another," he looked at her curiously before returning his attention to the rapidly growing flames, "I'm Elswyth Mahariel." His head snapped up and his eyes widened.

"Mahariel? The Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall trip over one another in the woods? Oh, Varric would have a field day with this…" she raised a brow at the mention of the infamous storyteller's name.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I didn't expect to get another part out so soon... I'm sorry they're so short, but I have so much studying I need to get done. I graduate in May though, so there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Don't forget to review! This story is so much different than anything I've done before, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

* * *

><p>Shadows frolicked amongst the ancient trees as Hawke stoked the fire, breathing life into it with practiced, easy movements. Unwilling to startle the flighty creature opposite him he slowly and deliberately removed strips of meat left over from before, laying them on the fire to cook, amusement echoing on his features at the hawkish way she watched him. No pun intended of course. Hunger hit her like a punch to the gut and fatigue dawned like realization upon her now unmoving limbs. She hoped ferverently her stomach would not betray and embarrass her by growling.<p>

"By the way," her eyes focused on him once again, curiosity tilting her head. "Did you happen to know someone by the name 'Merrill'?" Her eyes were like saucers before narrowing suspiciously.

"She was part of my clan. Our Keeper's-"

"First. Yeah, that's her," unable to contain herself her eyes bored into him demanding answers.

"You met my clan?" his hesitancy to answer made her uneasy.

"I was instructed by someone called Flemeth to deliver an amulet to Marethari," a frown creased his face, unwelcome memories surfacing regarding the keeper's fate. "Merrill traveled with my group after that… she was trying to save her… your people's history by reconstructing this mirror…"

"Oh, Merrill, no!" those pools of silver went impossibly wide; Hawke seemed taken aback by her outburst.

"She made some reference to you and that it took you from the clan as well as claimed another life," the solemn answering nod she gave spoke the truth of his words.

"Tamlen," her eyes softened, those moments so long ago remained crystal clear in her memories, a promised discussion that would never come to pass. "That mirror made me a Warden," mournful and wistful expressions warred across her features and he found himself entranced. That accursed mirror had done more than destroy her own life and this 'Tamlen,' it continued its destructive path in Merrill. Looking at her face, he didn't have the heart to relay such thoughts.

It was difficult to envision her unusual face in the role of Warden Commander, fearsome slayer of the darkspawn and unyielding Commander of the Grey. "I had no idea she obsessed over it," the words grounded his wayward thoughts and he nodded.

"Obsessed is too light a word," Elswyth's slight grimace and weighted expression at his clarification surprised Hawke. She stared unseeing into the depths of the forest beyond the glow of their little world.

"I feel as though I've ruined the lives of those I once loved to save a nation of nobodies," her sigh reverberated through him as though it had been ripped from her chest, echoing a familiar chord within him.

"I know what you mean," their eyes met over the fire and she regarded him with open curiosity. For once this was a man who had shouldered a burden like hers. No weighted sympathy and lies painted with false understanding. This man had experienced the suffocating agony of a decision he was not meant to make thrust upon him. Shoulders bowed with the weight of guilt for consequences he had no right to bear. _The lesser of two evils_, the cruel irony did nothing to alleviate the suffering of said lesser evil. Who were they to decide fate? Thrust upon a pedestal of our own deeds, the people cry out for an answer to a question that possessed no correct answer then crucify you when it wasn't the outcome they craved, regardless of the fact that there was no desired answer until it was past the point of no return. Damn you to hell if you do and damn you to hell if you don't.

His head cocked slightly in a gesture she was beginning to equate to a thought entering his mind.

"I also met Leliana and King Alistair," the elf's expression darkened at the mention of the second name. _Interesting._

"How is Leliana these days?" Hawke worked hard to hide his grin. Well now, that smelled of romantic involvement gone awry. Between a king and an elf no less… he could guess the resulting fallout of such a tryst.

"All wrapped up in Chantry conspiracy," her ensuing snort dragged a grin to his own lips. So the stoic and weary Commander had a humorous side?

"She joined me because of a dream… a vision from the Maker," Hawke couldn't stop the chuckle that bubbled out of him. "Can you imagine my reaction? And you've met her prior to knowing this. Fresh out of the Dales, my first experience in a shemlen village of any kind and this crazy lady informs me the Maker told her to help me," Hawke's answering chuckled encouraged her. "My first reaction was to tell her that the Maker also encouraged mass genocide and enslavement of my people during the Exalted March on the Dales... but I figured that wouldn't go over well," his full bellied laughter was soothing to her, somehow. Indeed she felt a kinship with him she couldn't quite explain.

"Of course it was important not to ostracize the Wardens any more than they already were, considering Loghain was blaming us for the murder of the king, so I had to play nice. I had already made that Chantry lady at Ostagar angry with me," Hawke waved his hand encouragingly.

"Oh do tell, your stories are much more intriguing than Varric is even able to spin," his grin was disarming.

"I was wandering the army's camp at Ostagar before the battle. I was actually supposed to be looking for Alistair, but I had never seen so many people all packed into one tiny place, it was overwhelming. Through my meanderings I came upon a Chantry… sister I guess, giving blessings to soldiers. I stopped to watch, I'd heard much about the Chantry, but never seen anyone from it. The woman stopped and asked if I wanted a blessing. In my confusion I asked why she would give one to an elf. She replied that the Maker wishes to bless all who would receive him. Immediately I was on edge because… well the Chantry decimated my people once. So I asked if the Maker would destroy all those who don't," Hawke was holding his sides now.

"It was an honest question! I was legitimately worried I'd be quartered or something if I refused! She snippily told me to take my 'hate-mongering' and be gone," it had been so long since she'd had the simple camaraderie of friendly conversation. Zevran had disappeared for quite some time and Ogren was always busy. Not that he was a scintillating conversation partner, but desperate times called for debasing oneself sometimes.

"Oh priceless," Hawke grinned once he'd caught his breath, "I do love stories like that. I was never a huge fan of the Chantry. Stuffy traditionalism the lot," Elswyth smiled softly back.

"Oh, speaking of disliking the Chantry, I had heard a former comrade of mine made it to Kirkwall. Perchance have you received word of a mage named Anders?" the sudden dark expression that crossed his features was startling.

"Yes. Yes he did," the deadpan annoyance to his voice sent chills through her. "I'm sorry to tell you he's dead," her brow knit together and he watched her cautiously. "I don't know the manner of man he was when you knew him, but he'd become a monster. He completely destroyed the Chantry, caused the deaths of the Revered Mother and every person within the building, the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander as well as sparked the mage / templar war now tearing all of Thedas apart," forcefully he calmed his temper and breathed out his frustration. Ander's betrayal had cut him to his very core, ripping apart the fragile trust built upon years of fighting side by side.

Those moments of watching the destruction he had wrought was unbearable. To have him so wholly wrapped up in his own rage, his own selfish war that he didn't even consider the lives he would permanently ruin; Hawke just couldn't fathom it. The tenuous threads Reven had clung to; just barely holding the fragile illusion of peace between them was ripped violently from his trembling fingers.

"He had merged with a spirit of justice-"

"He did WHAT?"


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I swear, I'm working on too many things at once... all of that on top of med school... *sigh* But these things can't help it... if I don't let them out somehow they'll munch my brain into goo...

Anyways, here's the next small installment... I'm not sure how far this one will continue, although I am enjoying the pairing immensely. Let me know what you all think. As always REVIEW! :3

* * *

><p>"He merged with Justice?" Hawke stared in open mouthed disbelief and she took a cleansing breath. "I knew both of them, before…" she didn't want to think about Justice disappearing into the mage. The thought was… creepy. "We met him in the Fade. Justice I mean. The veil was thin in the Black Marshes and a darkspawn tricked us, lured us into a trap meant to keep us in the Fade permanently. In order to escape we had to help this spirit of Justice defeat an evil.<p>

"An ancient evil whose mischief had kept the souls of an entire village captive. They fed her, gave her strength. Most of them never knew they were even dead. Destroying her sent us back to our bodies except…" she paused. "Justice came too. He was a spirit without a vessel to dwell in so he awoke in the body of a recently deceased Warden. Recently as in a few days dead," Reven grimaced at the picture that presented.

"When I last saw Anders they were discussing his quandary. Justice was simply animating a corpse. It continued to rot right around him. But I never thought…" her eyes were downcast, clearly this weighed on her as did so many other consequences of her _heroic_ deeds. "Anders was so carefree. I don't understand… I even gave him that kitten… Sir-Pounce-Alot he called him," Hawke chuckled despite the coil of anger in his gut at the very mention of the traitorous mage.

"He mentioned a cat his 'friend' had given him. Now I know why he never said who it was," his chest ached at the haunted expression in her eyes as she shrugged her lean shoulders absently.

"He knew I didn't like the fame," silver rose to meet blue across the fire. "Anders had always been on the run, eventually escaping every time the templars caught him. But he was never overtly violent toward them. He was always a healer. The most aggressive thing he did was grouse about how silly they looked in their skirts. He must have possessed so much anger and fury buried beneath that annoying, sarcastic exterior," she sighed slightly, rocking back a little.

"It goes to show you that sometimes we don't truly know people. Even those close to us."

"I'll eat to that," Reven's voice was laden with more emotion than he'd intended, disguising it with sure movements as he removed their dinner and neatly clove the meat in two, offering her half. The subject of the mage made him uneasy, his eyes darted to her briefly, eager to change the subject. "So, you still haven't revealed why the Hero of Ferelden was sprinting break neck through the Dales headlong into Orlesian territory," the grin he pinned her with was sly and teasing however her guard was immediately back in place. Regarding him carefully she chewed her meat slowly, considering how much she should tell him.

Truth be told his situation didn't look so terribly different from her own. The Champion of Kirkwall was a map's breadth from home with no forthcoming reason why. Unless he was more masterful at lying than Zevran was, as highly unlikely as that seemed, the man was probably in a situation similar to her own and didn't seem to wish her malice. Indeed he had appeared as shocked as she to be 'tripped over.'

"Information for information then? I tell you and you'll tell me why you're in the Dales?" Reven paused momentarily, obviously following a similar line of thought as her own, further confirming her earlier assumption he wasn't say another Crow sent after her. After a few pregnant moments he nodded.

"I relinquished command of the Grey Wardens to another Warden and left. My time there was done. If I stayed however, I would never truly be free, so I left Ferelden. I wanted to find my clan briefly before moving on; my information said they were last seen at Sundermount, near Kirkwall. So I was going to supply in Verchiel, just north of here, then shadow the Imperial Highway, avoiding all cities through the Planasene Forest and finally to Sundermount. After I saw my clan I planned on going to see Arlathan Forest with my own eyes," Reven watched the dreamy expression cross her face as she spoke.

The accent that lilted each word was so similar to Merrill's, but where the blood mage's was quippy and higher pitched, Elswyth's was deep and velvety. A story teller's voice that rose and fell empathically, drawing you in to be lost in a maze of beautifully spoken words. Of course the accent helped… in retrospect it amazed him that she'd maintained the heavy lilt to each word, as though she'd never left her clan, though in actuality she'd been far removed for over a decade. "After that…" her voice cut through his daydream and he saw her shrug, his spell broken.

"Well, I am going to sound silly in comparison. This is part of the reason I hesitated in agreeing to tell you," one dark eyebrow arched and he couldn't help his smile. "I was going the opposite way. I wanted to see if there was anything beyond the Arbor Wilds," the lengthy pause after his statement and the ensuing blinks she sent his way were telling. The Warden was obviously expecting more than that. "No, don't look at me like that!" he flinched back as though she'd jumped at him. "It's true! I wanted to explore on my own for once, map some uncharted territory. You know?" the adorable way she cocked her head made him smile.

Somehow she made him feel inadequate. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced in years, though as uncomfortable as it was he knew it was well earned and her endeavors far outstripped his own. "The Champion of Kirkwall" felt a pompous and empty title next to the sheer willpower of the woman across the fire from him.

True, the outlandish tales that circulated regarding the Dalish Warden were extreme and fanciful, but he knew from listening to a master weaver that all tales started with that thread of truth, especially since most of those masterfully woven tales were about him. Knowing the Dalish as he did, especially since his contact was solely with _her_ clan, he understood that she'd been violently cleaved from all she knew and was hurtled into a confusing world of mayhem, politics and shrewd cunning where a person would smile at your face and plunge a dagger in your back once turned.

"You know, the stories about you are pretty crazy," he chuckled at the expression she shot at him so akin to annoyance. "I bet most of them aren't even true," he challenged, licking his fingers clean of the last of his food. Elswyth shrugged her shoulders smoothly.

"Why don't you tell me what you've heard and I'll tell you if it's true or not," oh Varric was going to turn green with jealousy! Reven leaned back against a tree and crossed his arms behind his head and relaxed, his palms rested against the braided knot tied directly past his ears. Absently he realized his dark brown black hair finally brushed his shoulders, the lengthy, irritating process of growing it out was finally coming to fruition.

"Let's see, where to begin? Oh! How about the obvious? Did you actually murder King Cailan?" she scoffed.

"Of course not. Loghain didn't respond do my signal to charge and quit the field, resulting in losing Ostagar _and_ the king."

"Don't look at me like that! It was just a rumor! I didn't think you had. Ok… how about… oh, oh! How you defeated a hundred opponents in the Proving single handedly and were the first non-dwarf to be named a paragon!" he swore he saw a vein stand out on her forehead.

"I _did_ participate in _a_ proving. No, it was one on one combat with one or two exceptions until the last round. I was allowed to choose a second for that round. And creators forbid, no! I'm not a paragon!" she paused before heaving a giant sigh, as though extracting the information from within her was both wearisome and unwilling. Those pale eyes darted heavenward as though she hesitated to divulge more.

"But yes, they erected a statue of me in Orzammar, supposedly the first non-dwarf since before they were forced to close the deeproads," her eyes flitted to him in what he could only translate to be a sheepish expression. "I also… may have met and… er… killed the last living paragon, Branka," the grin that lit Hawke's face pulled an annoyed frown to her own.

"See, Varric's got it all wrong, the truth's far better than his gold spun fiction," he flashed her a roguish grin.

"Is it true you killed the Arishok?" she asked, her own curiosity bubbling out of her as she leaned forward. She was always eager for any word about the Qunari; Sten had become a treasured companion before he left her side. It was when she leaned forward that the realization dawned on him that she hadn't been sitting the entire time. Instead she was perched on the balls of her toes in a crouched position. How terribly uncomfortable.

"Yes… yes I did unfortunately. He didn't give me much choice. I wish there had been another way. He was an interesting man. Their belief system is so far flung from any of ours…"

"I know what you mean. A kossith of the Qun followed me for a while," lost in the comfort of wholly familiar and satisfying memories she missed his curious expression. Sten was another companion she'd felt a certain unusual kinship with once she traversed his cold exterior. So unlike the other members of her ragtag company he seemed to revel in the moments when she would argue and defy him. A more unlikely pair there never was for he virtually towered above her diminutive stature, easily almost three times her weight. But the strategies! They two easily moved into a combative dance that reeked of choreographed legwork though neither had the patience for such a thing. Even Alistair stood in awe of their unusual tactics. Once Sten literally threw her over their enemies, so light she was to him.

"He told me he was in Ferelden because the Beresaad asked him what a Blight was. Of course he and his men were unprepared for their first darkspawn encounter… only Sten survived. When I met him in Lothering he-"

"Lothering?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind reviews! I managed to get another update typed faster than I thought I would, didn't have as much homework as anticipated.

However my reviewer D-Ro2593 gave me a great idea that I hadn't considered before. **What would you, the reader, like to see Hawke and Mahariel discuss?** Obviously I cannot think of every conversation possibility, so after reading this chapter, give me your thoughts, ideas, desires and questions! There seems to be enough interest in this to continue it, so lay it on me! What would you like to see?

* * *

><p>"Yes," a guarded expression accompanied her words and she watched him silently for a moment before continuing, "he was in a cage because he-"<p>

"Murdered Farmer Deglan and his family," he finished for her, "I know. I used to live there. _That_ Qunari is the one who traveled with you?" her wide silvery eyes took in his face for any sign of malice as she shrugged her lean shoulders helplessly.

"Do you know of many other Qunari in Ferelden?"

"Hmm… good point. I guess I assumed he died when the darkspawn hit Lothering…" his voice trailed off before he glanced up at her dumbfounded. "You fought at Ostagar. My brother Carver and my friend Aveline were there," she shook her head slightly.

"Alistair and I were not involved in the fighting, remember? It was our responsibility to make sure the beacon signal went off on time."

"_Then_ you must have passed through Lothering just before we made a run for Kirkwall. My family waited until the horde broke upon the small town," she nodded.

"That would make sense; we were there a mere day or so ahead of the horde. Morrigan made it our first stop," after a moment her words gave him pause. It was becoming unsettling how many names they were bandying between them that were familiar.

"Morrigan… wait… Flemeth… the crazy dragon lady mentioned a Morrigan…" her eyes cast down again and she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Asha'bellanar… is not someone I wanted to infuriate… alas, I'm almost positive I did…" he waited patiently for her to elaborate. She looked up at him sheepishly. "I kind of killed her…"

"You WHAT?" she flinched.

"Well this will take some explaining…" she rubbed the back of her neck in an unconsciously uncomfortable gesture. "Morrigan is Flemeth's daughter, whether by blood or … other means not even Morrigan knows. Flemeth sent her daughter with us as repayment for saving Alistair's and my life, although how that works, I haven't the faintest notion," she paused.

"But that amulet she had you deliver to Marethari… they performed a rite on it, didn't they?"

"Yeah… and like a creepy old lady, she popped out," he wiggled his fingers in front of his face to accentuate the 'creepy old lady' part. Elswyth ignored his sarcasm and nodded.

"Just as Morrigan and I thought. We couldn't kill her. During our travels Morrigan unearthed her grimoire. In it was written her spell that's given her life all these centuries. She needed Morrigan's body, to take over… as a host…" Hawke screwed up his face at the repulsive thought. "Yea, I couldn't let that happen to my friend, even if it meant fighting the fabled Witch of the Wilds. In turn, Morrigan later saved my life.

"The only way to kill the archdemon, the twisted soul of an old god, is for a Warden to deliver the killing blow. The Warden's life is then snuffed out. Morrigan performed a ritual that… displaced the energy that would have killed me," with keen eyes he watched her features, hearing the omission she'd made but unwilling to push her for more than she was ready to give.

"Anyway," she eyed him cautiously. It was still discomfiting to her that he made her so comfortable, enough to share so much about herself to someone she'd barely met. "You said you have a brother?"

"Had. He died in our flight from Lothering."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be, that was over ten years ago. My sister ran away to help other mage circles during their rebellions and my mother was killed by a crazy necromantic blood mage trying to resurrect his dead wife a few years ago. So nothing to hold me in Kirkwall really. Just a big empty house and a lot of politics," he stated it all so flippantly, as though he were ticking off a grocer's list and she stared at him stymied.

"Your life sounds as fulfilling and joy filled as mine. I was orphaned as a baby, my best friend and soon to be betrothed and I were both tainted by a mirror. He became a darkspawn and I later killed him because I got to drink some goo and became a Warden. Then all but two of us were killed at Ostagar. Oh and guess what? You've been a Grey Warden five minutes, so let's leave the task of rebuilding the entire order and saving the world to you," she stared into the woods in annoyance.

"The irony of it all is that I'd never actually seen a _human_ before the day we found that mirror and met Duncan… the man who inducted me into the order. Earlier that same morning we'd come across some thieving shemlen in the forest who told us about that cave the mirror was in; _they_ were the first I'd ever seen. Then all the sudden I'm in charge of making every race's decision from then on out. Somehow it was me who chose both the dwarf king and the king of Ferelden," Reven's eyes rose into his hairline. So _that_ rumor was true.

"And your one bright spot, your harbor of happiness became king and spurned you for 'duty.' Sound about right?" her mouth fell open slightly in what he assumed was a rare expression for her. She seemed the type who was always collected. But then her face hardened.

"How did you-"

"Relax, Lady Grey. Your body language is very telling to someone paying attention. You stiffen at the mere mention of his name," she cast her eyes down.

"It was foolish to think being an elf would never come between us," she glowered at the darkness. "Then of course he would need an heir. 'Can two tainted Wardens have a child? _Should_ they have a child?'" she sighed. "Tegan and Eamon both liked the idea of a Dalish queen, but Alistair was afraid of the political ramifications of two Wardens on the throne," she shrugged. "I wouldn't want to be queen anyways. Being Warden Commander was taxing as it was," he nodded with a rapidly growing grin.

"I can't really imagine you in the frills and gold most queens wear," her face screwed up in horror at the thought and he laughed heartily. "I think that's something we probably both have in common," he sobered up as he stared into the fire.

"You didn't wish to be queen either?" a full bellied laugh from him accompanied her oh so seriously asked question

"No, silly. Although being queen would be rather upsetting for me. What _would_ I do with my hair? But no seriously, we both missed the anonymity of random battle. When you're famous, everyone has it out for you: in battle, in the shadows… in politics," she grimaced.

"I hate politics." For a few long moments he studied her face carefully, noting the lack of smile lines, her features seemed more liable to form a frown than any other expression.

"You don't smile very much, why's that?"

"And _you_ ask a lot of questions," one eyebrow arched as she raised her nose at him and he chuckled.

"I'm a curious creature, what can I say?" she humphed and looked away. After a moment's pause she cocked her head and looked at him curiously.

"You. Zevran mentioned you…" he chuckled.

"Yes. I met the infamous Antivan assassin Zevran. He was… an interesting character," she chuckled with a small smile.

"He stuck with me through a lot. We'll meet up again at some point, but I miss him," she looked at him curiously. "No companions to join you?"

"Well, Anders is dead. Sebastian returned to Starkhaven. Isabella," it was his turn for his face to darken, "disappeared. Merrill decided to try to rejoin her clan, Varric had a few things he needed to do and was caught by the Chantry. He sent me word that he'd find me later. Aveline is captain of the guard and would not leave Kirkwall. Fenris just kind of disappeared one day. And Bethany, my sister, I already told you about," she nodded in understanding.

"My situation was much the same. Leliana, you met. Zevran. Alistair. Sten returned to the Beresaad. Ogren is still with the Wardens I think. Shale returned to the deeproads. Even Bohdan went on his way…"

"Heh, yea Bohdan had mentioned he'd traveled with the Hero of Ferelden at one point. Him and his… 'enchantment' son. They work… well worked... in my house."

"That's them. Then there was Anders, Justice, an elf Velanna, a dwarf Sigrun, Nathaniel Howe-"

"I met him in the deeproads. He mentioned something about… smarter darkspawn," the lilt in his voice as he sounded out the last word indicated he was asking for confirmation and she grimaced slightly.

"Yes… those are days I'd rather forget. The Architect, the Mother and all the slime and filth filled deeproads tunnels. And Morrigan…" she paused. The child would be around nine or ten years old now, wouldn't it? She shifted uncomfortably. "So the whole Champion and then templar war thing, how did that pan out? I mean how did that all end up on you?" he sighed lightly.

"Self-serving interest hoisted me into the view of higher powers. Then it was just a matter of wrong place, wrong time, right companions. I couldn't have succeeded without them," Elswyth nodded in understanding.

"At least they didn't ask you to rule Kirkwall after all was said and done…" he was already shaking his head.

"They did. Now you know the second reason why I'm out here," that earned him an actual laugh from the elven woman across from him. It was a musical sound that perfectly matched the velvety tone of her voice, the sort of thing that made one think of the sirens from pirates tales… ok now he was over-romanticizing things. Varric would be so proud. He resisted the urge to rub his face in irritation.

"Well, thank you for the rest, this has been very entertaining. Your companionship was a welcome reprieve," she unfolded herself and stood.

"Wait," the word popped out of his mouth before he'd had a moment to gather his thoughts and she paused mid turn, her large eyes settled on him as he pieced together the appropriate words. "I have a proposal. Why don't you stay the night? With two of us it's safer and there's no immediate danger. Then in the morning…" his eyes glittered, appraising her. "I'd like to join you," her eyes widened only slightly in surprise, the rest of her face remained unchanged.

"You won't be able to travel as fast, judging from the speed you were moving when you tripped over me, but I _am_ fast and can travel long periods. I also suffer from your 'fame' syndrome, so it's not like avoiding villages and attention will cause a burden for one another. The companionship, as you stated, will be appreciated on both sides, I'm sure. And…" his expression turned a little sheepish.

"My travels seem a little pointless. Yours actually have purpose. Plus I know the direction your clan was headed." These were all valid points, but what came as a huge surprise to her was how glad she was that he'd offered. As Grey Warden Commander, though surrounded by people, she'd had little companionship save Zevran, when he was actually home.

Hawke intrigued her, everything about him indicated he was a deeper being than the sarcastic exterior he touted and she found she wasn't ready to part ways just yet. She wanted to know more about this dangerous and wolfish man named Hawke.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Okay, so just a warning, I tend toward dialogue and fluff than action, so much of my stories consist of "he said" "she said" kind of stuff. I'm trying to improve with more action oriented scenes, but you'll have to bear with me. I didn't have much time to write, but here's an update. Don't forget to review!

* * *

><p>It was a dangerous and tumultuous time. The events at Kirkwall sent ripples all across Thedas. Many mage circles dissolved completely, leaving the countryside more covered in uncontrolled mages than ever before. Though many were content to return home to live their lives and do no harm, just as many were twisted and bent on revenge and violence. Years of submission to the unyielding law of the Chantry and the templars led to perverse subversion among many of the now free roaming magic users.<p>

The flow of blood did not abate at the rapidly crumbling circles however. Mage rebellions, whose members were those touched and untouched by magic alike, whether they be families torn asunder by the discovery of a mage in their home or a lost spouse, rose up like wildfire, their influence spreading rapidly. Many a chantry, under Ander's martyred example, burned.

Flames licked the skies from Kirkwall to Ferelden and even across Orlais, sending tremors north through Tevinter. The travesties done to mages over the centuries justified in their minds the wonton, carnal bloodshed they now wrought, a large majority willfully blotting out the cold hard truth that they were slaughtering innocents.

The templars however were not without the stain of innocent blood on their hands and had much to answer for, as did many of the Maker's children. The blood ran in the streets too thick and too deep to tell the difference from mage, innocent civilian and templar. Many a blameless brother or sister was slaughtered by fire or sword. Just as many displaced mages with no will to fight and nowhere to go but home were hunted down like witches, dragged screaming and begging from their homes to be executed in the streets.

The alarming number of abominations roaming free however was growing at a staggering rate. Soon there might not _be_ mages, only abominations and templars. The circle in Ferelden fared better than most, surprisingly still standing. The recent tragedy, ten years past, but still fresh in their minds did much to remind the mages of the dangers of magic and temptation. The elder mages did well to keep the young ones educated and it was a bare few the templars had to put down, though that bare few was still far too many. Though years had passed they were still much reduced, their numbers still a fraction of what they were before Uldred attempted his blood mage uprising.

Needless to say this all surmounted to the rogue's shared feeling of relief that the other was willing to travel a shared road together.

They took to their journey in earnest, avoiding main roads and larger towns, stopping only in small secluded villages for supplies when needed. Remaining anonymous was both easier and more difficult at the same time. Simple folk were eager to hustle strangers along, never knowing if the newcomers were rogue mages; throwing their supplies at them and urging them to the road again, sometimes without payment even, so urgent was their need to hurry them along. Templars however had a knee-jerk assumption that every person avoiding detection was automatically a blood mage to be slaughtered.

"So tell me more of your adventures in Kirkwall," she stepped lightly along the top of a fence as they walked before stopping a moment and crouching, bringing her to his eye level. Travel with her was both amusing and annoying at the same time. The slight elf had a habit of flitting in and out of trees, the 'frolicking' he assumed Varric kept teasing Merrill about, only it was much more silent and predatory. Often he would lose sight of her completely for periods of time only to find her walking casually by his side again, not having heard the slightest noise. It was unnerving.

Then she did wholly adorable things like she was now, hopping onto the top of the fence and traveling its length like it were normal ground and crouching at the end like a pointy-eared gargoyle. Now she was at eye level for him, where normally she stood almost a full head shorter than him; apparently she was short even for an elf.

"Forget that, my life's drab compared to yours. I want to know how _you_ managed to unite _all_ of Ferelden behind you. All the stories depict you as this stern, inspiring, never-wavering matriarch. You don't seem like that at all right now," he eyed the crouching elf curiously.

"Stop changing the subject every time I ask," she pinned him with those piercing pale eyes and he suddenly got a better idea how she did it.

"It's really not all that interesting," he repeated, leaning on the fence to her side. "I've told you the fascinating and heroic parts already. The rest was just nonsensical daily and mundane tasks for money and survival," he shrugged. "I was born and raised in Lothering by my mother, a former noble of Kirkwall and an apostate father. We fled to Kirkwall where I met Varric who got me into a deeproads expedition.

"A week under the surface we stumbled upon a thaig like none anyone had ever seen before. No statues of paragons or dwarven artifacts. It was as though it hadn't been dwarven," she listened eagerly. "Down there we found an idol… whether Bartrand, Varric's brother was mad before then or not… we never found out. But once the idol was in his hands he trapped us down there.

"Eventually we found a way out, but Bartrand was long gone. Years later we caught up with him but… he'd sold the idol, keeping only a small piece of it for himself that continued to drive him mad. Of course years later none of us had put two and two together that around the same time the idol disappeared the Knight-Commander had a brand new, shiny sword made for herself and from then on her actions and commands became increasingly erratic, lacking good judgment and pretty much altogether insane," she looked at him with wide eyes.

"You mean this blood bath everywhere can be blamed on insanity caused by one little idol?" her wide eyes were locked on him incredulously.

"Yep, pretty much. That and don't forget Ander's wonderful fireworks he set off in the Chantry, which, by the way, he'd tricked me into helping him do. Now imagine how well I've slept since then, with the knowledge that the 'Champion of Kirkwall' may very well be responsible for all of this," he waved his hand wide in a casual gesture that took in the land around, his voice light, but his eyes held a weight and guilt so achingly familiar to her.

"Hey," surprise registered on his features as a slender hand was laid on his shoulder, "there's no way you could have known. You can't beat yourself up for factors beyond your control," he grinned at her sidelong.

"Right, because _you_ don't," she harrumphed at him.

"Who says I have to follow my own advice?" he laughed heartily and she smiled, again unsettled by how easy he was to like.

"To answer your earlier question," she blew errant dark strands from her face. "I have no idea," he quirked an eyebrow at her and she sighed. "Things just kind of… fell together. The hardest part was reaching each faction… not convincing them. Though the dwarves were a little more hassle than they were worth. Each race had some titanic problem they needed resolved, but once that was accomplished they were ready to unquestioningly plunge themselves into the depths of hell for me. Though I think that was their obligation to the treaties talking, it was still unnerving to have so much devotion at my beck and call," somehow he knew the treaties were in reality a smaller factor than she made them out to be.

"The elves must have been really easy for you then…" the look she gave him startled him.

"Everyone assumes that. My clan understood why I _had_ to join the Wardens. Other clans did not and my clan was already gone. The only reachable clan was in the Brecilian Forest and that was only because they were stuck there. They had a werewolf problem and many of their hunters were injured and burned with the curse."

"Werewolf… I ran into a Dalish assassin harassing a human who 'used' to be a werewolf. Claimed he killed her mother, Denyla," he looked to her for confirmation and the elf shook her head sadly.

"No, _I_ killed Denyla. She had been turned and was fighting the curse long enough to help us. In return she begged me to kill her. So I did," she looked away.

"You said other clans didn't understand?" he quickly brought the subject back.

"The clans are so small as it is… the people too few… to lose even one hunter is considered a great tragedy. My clan lost two. One to death and the other to the Wardens. _My_ clan understood that I had to leave or it would have become two lost to death. But word travels quickly and inaccurately. They held me in great disdain for 'abandoning' my clan and no amount of arguing would change that."

"Wow… so you were one of _two_ Wardens, the Dalish had spurned you, Loghain wanted you dead, the dwarves revere you… now humans worship you… you're just battered about everywhere you go, eh?" she heaved a heavy sigh.

"And all I wanted was to be left in peace."

"What will the world do without the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall?" he pantomimed, feigning an overly dramatic expression of defeat. She snorted.

"Actually have to learn to fend for themselves and solve their own problems?" he chuckled at her dry statement, hearing the sad truth behind the humor.

* * *

><p>The torrential rain didn't bother either of them, but their supplies were low and their equipment soaked completely through. Not to mention frequent bandit and frenzied blood mage attacks left them fatigued and edgy.<p>

"The town is just up ahead. I don't think we're out of 'Ferelden and Kirkwall awe' territory yet considering Leliana is from Orlais and we're literally smack dab between the two, so how do you want to work this…?" he turned to find a cloak already settled over her shoulders, soaking through rapidly as she tied a bandana around her forehead, flattening her ears to the sides of her head. Nimble fingers worked the straps to her quiver, re-positioning it and tightening it to her abdomen so it would not show under the cloak. She then pulled the hood up, obscuring her features, which quickly became waterlogged and molded to her head.

"Good call on the ears," he saw a small smirk grace her angled chin as she unstrapped her massive bow and handed it to him.

"It'll be obvious if I carry it. Hurt it and you'll wish you'd never been born," somehow that scared him more than any enemy he'd faced.

"It will not come to harm," he replied with a grin, pulling his own hood up and reverently slinging the bow across his back, surprised by how heavy it actually was. Small hands enveloped his arm as she stepped up to his side.

"I'm your wife and I'm very sick and need a warm, dry room immediately," he grinned down at her.

"Yes, my lady," she groaned.

"Oh, I'm going to regret this."

"Nonsense, my Lady Grey. I'm the perfect gentleman," she snorted.

Reven all but dragged her, pretending to be fatigued, through the small, water clogged village to the amber glow of the inn. At first he found it difficult _not_ to believe she was actually sick when her small frame started shaking and she managed a nasty sounding cough as they burst through the doors, the warm golden light of the tavern spilled over them and enveloped their soaked bodies. The small woman clung pathetically to him, soft and warm by his side and he suppressed a grin, maintaining his look of alarm and concern, he could get used to this.

"What happened, m'lord? How'd you 'n yer lady get caught out in th' terrible storm?" the barkeep stepped around the bar, though his posture was welcoming, Hawke detected an air of apprehension behind his greeting. He was sizing up his new customers. This damn war had everyone on edge.

"Mages! Leading undead…. THINGS! And awful abominations! They killed our escort and stole our carriage and belongings! We barely escaped with our lives! Poor Richard!" he turned his face into his 'wife's' hood as though holding back tears. She rolled her eyes in the safe shadows of her hood, in turn, pressing her face against his chest and letting loose a chest rattling cough to punctuate his statement. "Have your men on guard, man! They may still be about!" with that he followed the portly owner to an unoccupied room.

"Ye'll be safe here, good sir. We've templars here to pr'tect us," the man nodded and Hawke swept them both into the safety of the room.

"Thank the Maker! I must see to my wife!" he closed the door on whatever the Orlesian was about to say.

"Creators, you could be a bard…" she said softly, aware there might be prying ears at the door and gave him a look as she moved away, removing her soaked cloak.

"Now what's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked with a grin, removing his hood and unbuckling his chest harness.

"You're a good liar and actor, that's what," she retorted, hanging her dripping equipment and removing her quiver to hang to dry beside it.

"Ho-now, don't you be getting any ideas in your head. I'm honest… most of the time… honest," he grinned at the exasperated look she gave him and gently handed her the bow. "That thing's heavy by the way, how in the hells do you shoot it accurately?" she raised her eyebrow at him as she hung it beside her equipment. "Anyways," he said hurriedly, "Aveline always said you could tell when I was lying because I get all blustery, windbaggish and full of myself… I kinda thought I was like that all the time, but she said it was different so…" he shrugged and continued removing his gear.

"No," she considered him, "I can see what she means," he sighed.

"Great, so that's two people I now can't lie to," she smiled. Looking around the room, he considered their situation a moment. "You can have the bed, Lady Grey, I'll take the floor," she shook her head.

"I don't want it," his eyebrow shot up as he watched her grab a blanket, covering herself as she stripped out of the rest of her clothes, wrapping the blanket firmly around her and hanging her gear to dry. "You've seen my clan, we don't really have beds. I never let myself grow accustomed to one. I always ache when I wake up in them," he shrugged and nodded, not willing to argue her logic. Merrill had wanted her own bed so badly; he only assumed Elswyth would be the same way.

The small woman settled herself on the floor with her back against the wall and the blanket tucked safely around her. She had undergarments on, but the less he saw probably the better. Hawke stripped down to undergarments too, not caring if she saw or not, hanging his own gear to dry and climbing in bed, though she ignored him, her eyes already closed.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I apologize for the delay between chapters. I'm currently finishing another story of mine that's been years without completion and that one has priority. I'm almost done with it however and will turn full attention to this story after that. Please R&R and enjoy!

* * *

><p>Her dreams of the darkspawn were scattered and erratic, spattered with sparks of intellect and awareness. They lacked the overwhelming presence of the archdemon, but they were still there. Unlike other Wardens, she'd never stopped dreaming. At first she had thought it to be a normal occurrence, not having had much experience with Wardens beyond Alistair and herself. Command of Vigil Keep however led her to believe otherwise. Once the 'Mother' lie dead her dreams continued, but no one else's did. Quickly it became necessary to make sure no one else bore witness to her night terrors as it raised questions. Wardens dream only in two situations usually, during a Blight and during their Calling. Nathaniel had voiced concern one night when she'd dozed off in his presence upon their return to Vigil Keep and she had no answer for him. It was a plague on her nightly hours and a dread during wakefulness. She hated sleeping, though it was painfully necessary.<p>

In a stroke of insomnia induced 'genius,' or so she had thought, she attempted to just _not_ sleep at all. It got to the point where Alistair showed up on her doorstep because of reports he'd received detailing her condition and all but locked her in a room to force her to sleep. Dwell in the shadow of shattered love or brave the darkened horrors of traversing her dreamscape? Anything to make _him_ leave again. The Warden would have sought her bed long before that point had she thought he'd actually leave the cathedralled halls of his castle to personally make sure she wasn't killing herself.

So she dreamed.

Reven hadn't mentioned it yet, but she knew she stirred in her sleep, repulsed by the filth and stench that filled her nocturnal journeys. Other companions had told her as much. It was like battling through knee-deep muck. It was part of why she slept sitting up constantly. The harder she stirred in her sleep the higher the chance she would wake herself. It didn't always work, but it was better than tossing and turning, locked in mental torment. They never stopped. It was inevitable, at some point she'd have a terrifying enough dream that he would either awaken her or ask her about it later. Hooray for Wardens and their oddities.

A tickle in her mind pushed the shadows away like a veil. Akin to a smoke filled tavern in winter when the door opens, the cold air slicing through the curling vapors like a knife. Ears twitched slightly as her conscience once again settled in her body.

_Someone_ was climbing in the window. Someone _very good_. Her keen elven hearing barely picked it up. The room was wholly blanketed in velvety black to her vision as her eyes slit open, just enough to see the culprit through her dark lashes. Slowly, almost silently they fully stepped onto the floor with both feet, looking around quickly from within their shrouded hood. Her bow was too far, but her blades were by her leg in the blanket.

One step. Two steps. In the darkness of their rented room she exploded into action, across the small space before their intruder could react fully. The flash of wicked metal was almost blinding against the gloom as the figure desperately attempted to twist away and stop the maneuver they seemed to know was coming. Elswyth's lithe movements took her behind the figure, her daggers crossed wickedly against the soft flesh of their throat. To her surprise, Hawke was already on his feet as well, daggers drawn, one foot still on the bed. A chuckle brought her attention back to her captive.

"Ah! What a greeting! It was as if you _knew_ I was coming! Though you both could have had _less_ clothes. That would have been perfect!" an image of Elswyth nude with her daggers went sprinting through Hawke's head unbidden and he found he had to concentrate to bring himself back to the present.

"Zev," the unmistakable sound of annoyance mingled with amusement in her voice deepened his chuckle as he pushed his hood back, revealing his wide grin. Briefly they gripped one another's forearm tightly in a warrior-like handshake. "You're lucky you're not grinning from a new opening in your neck. You caught up with us surprisingly quickly. I wasn't expecting you for quite some time," he nodded enthusiastically while removing his gear.

"Nor was I expecting your dashing companion, so we were both taken by surprise," Zevran gave Hawke that unsettling roguish grin that made him suddenly want to cover up.

"Zevran. Good to see you again."

"The pleasure, of course, is all mine," he bowed with his usual leering grin in place before turning back to Elswyth. Despite his earlier comments, Hawke noticed an immediate shift in attitude toward her. The assassin, though most of his remarks were lewd and filled with innuendo, did not seem to _actually_ be attempting to bed the Warden. Instead he seemed to have more of a hovering, protective attitude, along with that shimmer of unmistakable respect and admiration in his eyes when he looked at her.

"Unfortunately my foray back into the Ferelden realm was cut quite a bit shorter than I had planned," Elswyth looked up from retrieving her blanket, holding her blade harness in the other hand, obvious question on her features. "Ferelden is in a bit of an uproar it would seem… mostly spurred on by the ruling monarch," Elswyth sighed, already seeing where this was going.

"Vigils Keep was too much of a mess; I did not even bother attempting to enter the gates. Besides, it seemed a good idea to avoid any contact with Alistair completely. Although I have endured a great many tortures in the past, I would not want to submit myself to his inquisition," he paused for dramatic effect. "Apparently, he is _very_ upset that you are gone."

"No shit, huh?" she gave Zevran an obviously fake incredulous look and Hawke couldn't help bursting out laughing. "He cried and moaned every time I left that damn keep. I think he just wanted me nearby. 'If I can't have her then no one can,' like a fucking trophy he kept on a shelf," the sheer amount of frustration on her face surprised the Champion. It was no wonder she was unable to move on, the monarch of Ferelden wouldn't let her. A scab needed to be left alone for it to heal, perhaps even applying a balm for one that might be infected. All he did was pick it open every time it had the chance to close over. It came as no surprise to him now that she was sprinting for all she was worth when she'd tripped over him in the Dales.

"Wait, he has a queen, doesn't he?" Reven asked, confused.

"Yes," Zevran's head bobbed. "A young woman with a creepy and pale resemblance to our beautiful Warden Commander," Elswyth rolled her eyes and Hawke made a face.

"That _is_… creepy."

"Mmm, indeed. The lady herself has not been very happy with it and as yet, they haven't produced an heir. Five years trying, apparently. I do not understand that. To produce a child you don't have to '_try'_ and '_practice_.' It's a very simple thing; you don't even have to be _good_ at it!"

"Enough about the domestic affairs of the throne!" Elswyth practically begged as she re-situated herself in her former sleeping position.

"Ah! Alas I have disturbed your slumber, I had not meant to do so," the Antivan crooned as he finished removing most of his own gear. It appeared his fared better and was not as wet. However he caught her expression as he turned back.

"You are still not sleeping well, are you?" all hint of amusement was gone, Hawke watched the friends in interest.

"What do you think?" she hadn't meant to sound so snippy, they'd done nothing but speak on sensitive subjects for her and it was wearing on her nerves. "We are not speaking of this now," she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, effectively dismissing the conversation.

"So!" Zevran clapped his hands together excitedly. "We will share the bed, yes? You are ok with spooning, right? Oh, I am good at spooning…" Hawke took a cautious step backward.

"Uh, that's ok, my cuddling skills are rusty. I'll just find a spot on the floor-"

"I kid, my good man! Continue your rest in the bed. Traveling with _her_ has made me accustomed to much worse sleeping conditions," they both glanced over to see her, eyes still closed, stick out her tongue at them. Zevran chuckled as he finished disrobing and made himself comfortable in a spot of floor across from her.

* * *

><p>The next morning Elswyth was awake first, as usual, strapping on her now dry gear. Zevran and Reven both rose at the same time and followed her example quickly. The cold rain had sapped the energy from the group and they found themselves dragging slightly, their brief reprieve within the inn only enough to keep them upright and their feet moving.<p>

Elswyth looked up to ask Hawke a question, when her eyes settled on him the words died in her throat. The rogue's back was to her, just in his breeches, and was pulling on his boots, carefully adjusting the armored plates of his leggings over the soft fabric. He was lean and wiry with impressive amounts of cording that slid easily under his skin, but what caught her attention was how _much_ scarring there was. Marks, both old and healed as well as newer and slightly pink traversed the rippled planes of his back. His lightly braided, shoulder length dark hair was pushed to the side, curling appealingly around his masculine throat. Zevran caught her staring and she quickly looked away with a blush, ignoring his knowing grin and sly wink.

"So, I think it is a good idea to stay and have a hot meal, yes?" both rogues pinned the assassin with expressions that clearly stated they thought he was insane, freezing mid-movement. "What?" he shrugged helplessly.

"We're between Kirkwall and Ferelden. The last thing we want is to be recognized," Elswyth protested. Zevran waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, I doubt it. We're far enough from both, it will be just fine."

An hour later…

"I told you the 'wife' guise wouldn't hold up," Elswyth groused into the table as they were served their food. As she raised her head from her gauntleted arm her dark glare settled on a satisfied Zevran. "You did this on purpose. You just wanted a free meal."

"Perish the thought, my dear! It was the improvement on the quality of the food I was endeavoring to gain," he quipped cheerily as he stuffed his mouth full. The overly excited tavern owner served them himself, babbling barely coherently about such auspicious guests.

They _had_ been doing passably well until an occupant of the tavern accused the hooded woman of being a mage. Elswyth had been carefully hiding her features and this was just suspicious enough to unnerve the tavern's occupants, a few of them rising to their feet and gripping weapons when the peasant made the accusation. Things quickly escalated until Zevran revealed their identities, acting indignantly that such magnanimous heroes were being treated so. Elswyth almost banged her head on the table.

One of the occupants of the room happened to have been in Denerim when Alistair had her paraded about after his coronation and when she'd removed her hood he recognized her. It was entirely uncomfortable for her when he collapsed to his knees in tears, babbling something about Andraste's blessings following him in troubled times. Of course no one ever considered the fact that Andraste was a little bit of a sore spot for the Dalish. And of course with the events in Kirkwall so recent everyone had heard of the roguish Champion. Tales of his wicked, enchanted daggers had traveled far and wide, thanks to Varric and the innkeeper berated himself constantly at not having recognized him. The rest of the meal was spent in horrid discomfort for the two 'heroes' as they were practically fawned over.

Their eagerness to leave was almost comical as they rushed out the door, practically combating away onlookers and well wishers, dodging requests for them to bless individual homes and meet their relatives and families. By the time they escaped the confines of the village and back onto the road again quite a crowd had gathered. Or _not_ onto the road as Elswyth quickly took them off the beaten path to prevent any sort of trailing group of admirers or would be adventurers thinking to join their group.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed once they were well out of sight, Zevran could not hold back his laughter.

"Oh, you both have the same aversion to fame. It is cute," he grinned and they both made a face at him.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait for another update. Holidays are coming and I'm sure we're all pretty busy. Add school and work on top of that and it creates little sleep and lots of stress. :P Hope you all like it, don't forget to review and give me pointers on how to improve!

* * *

><p>As the trio traveled the roads became more and more dangerous and time found them surging further from the beaten path. When they finally reached the Planasene Ridge the road was far flung from their location of bushwhacking, though none of the rogues paid it any mind. Their soft boots, and Elswyth's half bare feet, made for quick and quiet travel despite the sprawling underbrush they lightly stepped through and over. They made excellent time as three shadows flitting through the wilderness, their camp sites leaving little to no impact or trace behind them.<p>

The abrupt appearance of a well worn, un-mapped trail however set them all on edge. Avoiding it was decidedly inconvenient as it meandered the wood in their current direction of travel. Cautiously they ran parallel to it, making sure to keep low and under cover to avoid being seen by any unwitting travelers until the forest unexpectedly parted, revealing what appeared to be a small, stone, overgrown watch tower in the corner of the clearing. Though still intact it was crumbling around the edges, declaring to the trio that it was a structure from a time long past. For all intents and purposes it looked abandoned, but the worn nature of the path would indicate otherwise.

As they slowly approached it a figure materialized in the shadowy void of the doorway.

"I'll never go back! You can't make me! I have the power of the dwarves at my command!" he sounded crazed, with a higher pitched fanatical lilt to his ranting voice.

"Do we look like templars to you?" Elswyth asked the man in annoyance.

"Oh, but going back cannot be that bad? I hear they have tea and cakes," Zevran announced merrily. A roar from within the tower shook the ground and the trio glanced at one another. A heartbeat later the mage faded back into the darkness of the tower and the doorway exploded outward, showering the field with debris. In the now gaping hole where a well formed door had been stood a massive stone golem, easily three times the size of Shale.

"Aw, what the hell," Hawke groused, daggers instantly in hand as the thing charged them, the sheer weight of the construct tore up the loose dirt, the magically enhanced speed of it out of place for how heavy it was. Hawke somersaulted out of the way, grimacing as it felled the tree he'd been standing in front of moments before, rocks, dirt, and splinters flying from the explosive hit.

The three rogues dodged and danced around it, narrowly missing those wildly swinging boulder-like fists as it attempted time and time again to crush them. Sparks flew as daggers were repelled and arrows pinged harmlessly off its rock hide, a testament to the fact that they would need to fight it by less conventional means. It had no vital spots to seek or soft flesh to eviscerate.

"It's like Shale!" Zevran yelled as he dodged a rock fist larger than his chest, throwing himself backwards as dirt exploded where he'd once been standing.

"What the hell is a 'shale'?" Hawke yelled in exasperation, darting away as it swung at him, narrowly escaping by rolling between its legs.

"A dwarven golem who traveled with us for a while," Elswyth retorted as she pinged another arrow harmlessly off its face. Her bow was magically enchanted, but the elemental damage didn't seem to be strong enough for stone.

"I know you thought about it a few times," Zevran quipped as he and Hawke dove in opposite directions, a fist plummeting down between them, a second grasping hand almost caught Hawke's leg as he quickly sidestepped. "How would _you_ have killed her?" Elswyth snorted, abruptly sprinting out of the way as it charged in her direction. Faster than seemed possible it righted itself and almost pinned Reven.

"Shale… those runes…" she glanced hurriedly around and noticed an axe handle sticking out of the brush, the head was rusted, but seemed intact and the wood was still strong. Seizing it in both hands after stowing her bow, she carefully watched the golem's movements, needing to time this carefully as to miss could be drastic to her state of current health.

One of its great fists slammed into the ground where she'd been standing a breath before, but instead of leaping aside, she leapt up, kicking off its fist for momentum and quickly scampered up its mammoth arm to the shoulder.

All thoughts of Zevran and Reven were banished as it flailed wildly, trying to dislodge the nimble elf. Without wasting a moment she drove the axe head into the crevice between its head and collar, wedging it firmly to both use as leverage and a means of holding on. Her inconsequential weight ended up not being enough to dislodge its head as she feared. It was magically attached. Time for plan B.

"Zev, got any acid bombs?" she yelled as it slammed into a tree, attempting to knock the clinging elf free.

"Absolutely, catch," Reven didn't have time to bark out that this was a terrible idea; the bomb was already in the air. The Warden caught it easily and he expelled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, dodging between its legs to continue hacking away at it.

"I am going to find the mage and get the control rod," Zevran yelled as though he were about to take a leisurely stroll in the park. "Be right back!" the singsong tone of his voice made Reven chuckle despite their situation.

"Yea, you do that," Elswyth grumbled, not bothering to look up from concentrating on opening the bomb as carefully as she could with the golem flailing and smashing into every structure in the clearing.

"Watch out!" Reven yelled moments before the golem rolled, attempting to crush her beneath it. He had no idea how she managed it, but when the thing righted itself, she still clung to her perch atop it, like an annoying little bird.

"Aha!" the triumphant exclamation was accompanied by the hissing sound of acid. Hawke wasn't sure the thing could feel pain, but it roared like it did, the glowing runes around its neck were quickly melting. Elswyth had no idea how many of them would need to be destroyed for it to stop or if it would even work, but she kept at it, clinging for all she was worth and trying not to splash herself with acid as its movements became more violent and erratic, if possible.

The sound of chanting nearby startled both Reven and Elswyth and they looked up to see a templar standing a short distance away. A familiar aura washed over her and between it and the acid the golem began to slow, the magic in it slowly neutralizing. It staggered, collapsing piece by piece toward the ground; the elf rode it down until it finally fell apart. Once it stopped moving she sat, still astride the collar of its corpse, watching the newcomer in barely veiled annoyance and distaste, leaning her elbows on the rubble that used to be its head and shoulders and crossing her arms as she stared him down.

Not all templars were Alistair, but she had every reason to be biased.

No she didn't.

She knew she was being unreasonable, but she wasn't in a very forgiving mood at the moment.

"Ugh, he broke the rod," Zevran appeared in the gaping doorway, spattered with enough crimson to indicate the fate of the mage who'd once possessed the rod, the two pieces in his hand and stopped short at the scene before him. "Oh, well… fine then," he said with a slight pout as he tossed the pieces aside and descended the stairs with a noble air. Elswyth couldn't help chuckling at his antics. She really traveled with the strangest people.

"The mage. The mage controlling this golem, where is he?" the templar demanded looking between the three of them. Elswyth's eyebrows rose as if to say '_really?'_

"Did you miss the whole control rod comment and the fact that I am covered in blood, which has ruined my leather chest plate, by the way. I had just had this made out of Antivan leather too, very expensive," he whined, drawing out the last word in his exotic accent, and Elswyth chuckled, resting her face in one hand.

"Yes, I had noticed your new armor and yet had not had a moment to mention it. Very nicely made, I love the embroidery, was it custom?"

"Oh yes, indeed. I had it tailored by a man who used to outfit me when I was in the Crows, he gives me a wonderful discount since he owes me his life, but the work is still very expensive. Very nice fellow-" the templar sighed heavily, interrupting their conversation.

"I was _supposed_ to bring him back alive."

"Well that's too bad," Elswyth bit out sarcastically, finally rising from her golem seat. The templar looked at her incredulously, but she ignored him in favor of retrieving her gear.

"_That_ kind of mage the world can do without," the templar turned his self-righteous glare at Hawke.

"It is not your right to judge, Serah, the Maker-"

"Can shove it. He attacked us first, negating your accusation of judgment, it was self-defense and therefore moot point," Zevran grinned, he loved it when she became indignant at chantry members. The other rogues followed her example, readying to leave.

"Wait, where are you all headed?" the templar's sudden alteration of tone caused Elswyth to roll her eyes.

"Why would we tell a _templar_ where we are going?" Hawke scoffed. "The last thing we need is a trouble causing tin can trailing behind us," Zevran glanced at his fellow rogue and shrugged as though it didn't matter.

"Yes, but with mages roaming free, attacking whomever they come across, I can be of use to you…"

"_Or_ you could make things worse and they might attack us simply because you are with us," Zevran countered smoothly.

"And templars are just as bad! We've been harried on more than one occasion just because we're trying to avoid notice!" Reven blurted out and the templar looked at him oddly.

"Why are you trying to avoid notice-" Zevran hit Hawke on the arm and Elswyth covered her face with her palm, her back to the group.

"And you yelled at me for breaking your cover in that tavern! Then you go and put your foot firmly in your mouth and let it slip like that!" Zevran continued haranguing Hawke while the templar's eyes darted between the two of them, then to the elf who had yet to turn around.

"You all are obviously not mages. What is it you're hiding? Are you criminals?" as he looked at each of them more closely he realized what an odd group they actually were: a Dalish, an Antivan, and… perhaps a Ferelden noble? He couldn't tell with that last one; all heavily armed and armored, looking like they were more than capable of handling themselves.

"No, but we might as well be," it was either reveal their identities or possibly cause a fight and though he was currently being annoying she really didn't want to kill him either. "Let us introduce ourselves properly then," she sighed, finally turning to face the group, obvious annoyance on her features. Hawke sighed and gave her a pleading look but she ignored him.

"The Antivan is Zevran Araini," the former Crow swept a low bow. "The Ferelden is Reven Hawke," the templar's eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he looked at the slightly taller man, though Reven was ignoring him, his arms crossed and a decidedly unhappy expression on his face. "And I am Elswyth Mahariel, formerly of the Ferelden Dales," his eyes were like saucers as he regarded her. Now he could see it in all of them. Kicking himself he knew he should have recognized them. Zevran, the legendary crow, he had even made mention of being a former Crow while speaking of his chest plate. Hawke with his spiked armor and enchanted daggers was known as a fighter of marvel. His speed and agility were something to be revered and his dark hair and piercing blue eyes were the subject of many a noble ladies' fantasies. And of course the Warden Commander herself. Stories of her facial tattoos, eerie haunting beauty, long hair and scarred ear were legendary. The impressively large longbow and her quiver attached to her hip and thigh were also unusual. It was rare to have such a unique looking hero. Also there was her curt mannerisms, she was known for that too. No one blamed her though, she was Dalish after all.

"We would greatly appreciate it if you kept the knowledge of where you saw us to yourself and we wish you a good day and Creators grant you a safe journey," she turned to leave.

"Your clan," the templar blurted out and she paused, her back still to him, "I can get you their exact location. That's where you're headed, isn't it?"

"Point for the templar, that was quick thinking," Hawke gave Zevran a withering look.

"I know where the clan is," Hawke protested.

"They have moved since you left Kirkwall, Serah. Only one person knows their location: Knight-Captain Cullen…"

"Cullen?" Elswyth practically groaned. "Why is _he_ in Kirkwall?" the templar made as if to answer. "Never mind, I don't care. _Why_ does he know the location of my people?" the irritation in her voice was clear.

"With their Keeper dead he was keeping an eye on them. Their replacement Keeper was presumed a blood magic user-" Elswyth rounded on Hawke.

"What happened to Marethari?"

"You never asked!" he raised his hands defensively to ward off the tiny, furious elf glaring at him. "Look it's a long story and we don't need bumpkin over here eavesdropping-"

"Hey!"

"-so let's get going and I'll tell you everything on the way," he gave her his best big puppy eyes and she sighed, pinching the oddly straight, elven bridge of her nose.

"Wait, I'm headed in that direction and I can speak to Cullen for you, why don't we travel together? I'm Broderick by the way," he spread his hands appeasingly, hope on his rugged features. It was happening again, she just knew it and she shook her head in resignation.

"Fine... why does this always happen?" she grumbled, stalking off, "I can't even say no to a lunatic chantry sister… and now a wayward templar… it's all starting again… why can't I collect something quieter and easier to carry…" she kept mumbling angrily to herself while the group scrambled to catch up.

"Hawke!" she snapped her fingers and immediately he materialized by her side.

"Yes, Lady Grey?" he knew exactly why she'd called him, but attempting to lighten the mood was never a bad thing. The templar and assassin fell into step behind them a respectful distance away.

"Marethari is dead?" she asked quietly, a far cry from the manner he _thought_ she was going to ask him in. Hawke ran a frustrated hand through the wayward strands loosed from his braids.

"I didn't know how to broach the subject. I knew it was… going to be very upsetting for you…" a heavy sigh escaped him. "But I suppose it will be good for you to know now so you have time to cool off before you see Merrill," Elswyth's face creased with concern as they walked.

Without embellishment and in respectful tones he told her about Merrill's descent into blood magic in order to purify the mirror. How when that failed she turned to a demon ensorcelled on Sundermount. He told her of the Arulin'Holm and how this too had failed. Then finally of her wish for him to accompany her to Sundermount to speak to the demon once more. Only when they arrived it was gone, Marethari had taken it into herself to prevent it from harming Merrill.

"Marethari… it even tried to use her to convince us she'd been purged of it and avoid…" he turned his head away, sadness filling his eyes, he had really liked Marethari. "There wasn't another way, the Keeper made sure of that…" Elswyth ceased walking, reaching a hand to a nearby tree to steady herself. She felt like she was going to be sick. Hawke put his hand on her arm, genuinely upset that he had caused her state of distress. "I'm so sorry… I tried to stop her, to dissuade her from walking her path…"

Zevran and Broderick hurried up.

"Elswyth, are you alright? What is wrong?"

"Hahren na, melana salin, emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenara na revas. Vir salahn'nehn, vir dirthera, vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin," Zevran had only heard her speak those words once before, when she'd buried the twisted, tainted body of Tamlen and his heart went out to her. That night had nearly broken her will to continue. Not even Alistair had dared broach the subject of who exactly Tamlen had been, though they all knew he had been lost and she had been saved. Hawke knew exactly what the words meant, but Broderick looked between them all, a little confused.

"Your Keeper then. I am truly sorry, Elswyth," the assassin gripped her arm in a brief, empathic gesture then dragged Broderick away to explain to the lost man what was going on.

"El, I-… I'm so sorry… I tried," she was already shaking her head, straightening.

"No, it's not your fault. Merrill chose her path. She foolishly believed no one else could suffer the consequences for her poor choices," Hawke watched her carefully. "That mirror…" the vehemence in her voice toward such a simple word betrayed her inner feelings. Breathing deeply to cleanse her mind she steadied herself, reverting back to her usual almost emotionless front. "Thank you for telling me," he nodded.

"Are you ok?" he asked quietly as they fell into step.

"I will be. It's just someone else I've lost. You'd think I'd be used to it by now," Hawke clapped her on the shoulder, startling her slightly before leaning in.

"It never gets any easier, but Varric knows this _awesome_ stuff. Tastes like shit, but hell if it doesn't make you think life's all flowers and bunnies!" Elswyth looked up at him and broke into a small smile at his disarming grin. Understanding lodged itself in his mind, he knew that look, he knew she was _not_ ok but that she was hiding it like he always did. Despite the fact that he always did it, he determined he would not allow her to internally suffer so.

Behind them Broderick watched the duo closely.

"Are they-?" he gave the assassin a sidelong glance and Zevran shook his head.

"Nah. Not yet anyway. Elswyth is not the sort to jump into things lightly," he remembered how long it took her to finally open up to Alistair, and that was _before_ he broke her heart and made her jaded. The first few years following Alistair's coronation were difficult on those around the Warden Commander. In public she was stoic and unyielding. In private she was insufferable and very difficult to speak to. It faded over time and she became more personable once again, but she never quite got rid of that dark cloud that had settled over her. For the first time in a while Elswyth seemed more like her old self again. The assassin gave a soft smile at her back.

"Ah… so I have a chance then?" the templar gave him a rakish grin and surprised the assassin.

"What about those vows of celibacy?"

"Almost no templars follow them, especially the older templars," he shrugged.

"Hmm… good to know," Zevran grinned.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I'm so sorry this took so long to update! I kinda was busy getting married and stuff. I promise I'll update more often!

* * *

><p>"Does she really sleep sitting up?" Broderick whispered to a sprawled out Hawke one night as they sat around their merrily burning campfire.<p>

"Shut it, kid. I'm trying to sleep. Besides, she's an elf, you know she can hear you better than I can, right?" Reven mumbled in annoyance, repositioning his arms under his head as he shifted on his back to get more comfortable, his hood pulled low over his face.

"I'm not a kid; I'm probably your age. And seriously? From way over there?"

"If I concentrate hard enough, I can hear your heartbeat," Broderick jumped a little the sound of her voice startling him, though the woman in question, leaning against a tree across the campfire with her eyes closed hadn't moved.

"Holy Maker, really?" Hawke chuckled at the annoyed look that crossed her features; _he_ knew she was kidding, but he wasn't about to tell the little tin can that.

"I take it you haven't had much experience with the Dalish," Zevran chuckled.

"No, not really," the templar shook his head ruefully. "Or elves in general save a few from the alienage. Speaking of which," he perked up, "what happened to your ear?" Zevran froze. That had been a traumatic experience for her and Alistair and a time he knew she'd usually rather forget. For long heavy moments she didn't move, or indicate she'd even heard him. Just when Broderick began to shift uncomfortably she broke the silence.

"Loghain _really_ wanted the location of his daughter, Queen Anora, from me. Ironic part is, I didn't actually know where she'd gone, not that I would have told him even if I did. He was also kinda mad that I'd killed his second in command, Rendon Howe," she still hadn't moved or opened her eyes. Languidly she raised her hand and swept her hair back from her ear. Even Reven, who had perked up when the conversation started, was startled by how it looked.

The top cartilage arched gracefully back like a normal elf ear, but the under edge was scarred and jagged, a large chunk of the middle lobe and soft tissue was missing, but the base of the ear was what made them cringe. It looked like she'd almost lost the ear completely, heavy scarring encircled the spot where the ear met her head and extended on both sides, into her cheek in the front and the hairline behind it. There were even spots behind her ear where the scarring prevented the hair from growing back. Despite the years that had passed, the scars still looked angry and pink, describing silently the trauma she had endured.

"The guard dragged me from the cell by my hair and ear using a metal gauntleted hand," Zevran cringed and moved away, he hated hearing this story. Elves ears are _so_ sensitive. Just the thought… "When they saw it was bleeding it became a game- in between the other things they were doing to me. Loghain wasn't there yet, they were just softening me up, so they stopped just short of removing it completely and left the other ear alone for the next session," she said it all so blandly and let her hair drop, the curtain of dark tresses softly obscured all but the large chunk missing from her lobe.

"They planned on doing…_ other_ things to get me to talk as well, but Alistair and I didn't hang around for that to happen. When we escaped there weren't enough poultices in the chest to do much but fix the broken ribs and chronic injuries. Things like my broken fingers and ear had to wait until we were back in Denerim and Wynn could see to them," she pulled off a glove casually and revealed the top of her hand; the surface was riddled with painful looking scars. "At least I didn't suffer any hearing loss," she finally cracked an eye and glanced at the templar who had the decency to blush. When she closed her eyes again Broderick got up and joined Zevran who was still haunting the edge of the campfire light.

"Are you alright, Ser Zevran?" the assassin glanced up as he approached.

"Not all of us, but most elves have _extremely_ sensitive ears. It can be a pleasurable thing, but also an excruciating method of torture as well. Many humans damage our ears on purpose for that very reason. Just the _idea_ of enduring what she did…" he shook his head sadly. "Then on top of that it was _she_ who endured it. I would have taken her place in a heartbeat if it meant she would not have to suffer. So… it is a story I do not like to hear repeated. I am glad she left it at the short version.

"I was one of the ones to encounter them at the entrance to Fort Drakon when we were attempting to rescue them. Both she and Alistair were hardly recognizable, they were so covered in cuts, bruises and blood, though she had taken the brunt of it… he was beaten attempting to defend her," he stared into the shadows uncomfortably, the memories dancing before his eyes.

"They had been ambushed and caught off guard. Elswyth never loses a fight, but she also protects those she's sworn to. Queen Anora escaped while she and Alistair provided distraction. Elswyth is a master strategist as well as battle hardened. To see her in so much pain…" the assassin shook his head.

"She's… very off-putting…" Broderick hazarded cautiously. Zevran smiled.

"That's just the way she is. The Dalish are not a trusting people, but she is much more so than most of her kind. Rightly so. She left her people and her first welcome to human society was when Loghain betrayed the king. Much of her life has been closed off from others as a result. Try meeting her on the tip of her arrow," he chuckled. "Staring down the shaft, past her massive bow and into such a beautiful face," he chuckled again. "Death never looked so good."

"Are you…"

"Oh, no, no. I had a crush for a little while, but she is more like a sister to me now," he stared off into the darkness. "It is an alarming feeling to one day realize that you went from an assassin with no loyalties to being willing to follow her into hell, and possibly die for her. I have no idea when it happened, but it was a slow process," Broderick watched him in earnest.

"Even Sten, a loyal follower of the Qun, called her 'kadan.' An equal as a brother in arms, and they do not believe women should be fighters," he chuckled. "Oh! You should have heard _that_ conversation! 'You are a woman,'" he deepened his voice in imitation of Sten. "'Yes, Sten,'" he imitated Elswyth's voice.

"'Yet you fight?' … 'Yes, Sten,' … 'One of those things cannot be true,'" laughter bubbled out of the Antivan. "By the end of their 'debate' she had maneuvered them so she could stand on some crates and be eye to eye with him since he was three heads taller than her!" Zevran held his sides and Broderick smiled at the image.

Hawke narrowed his eyes at the duo just within the edge of the light.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

"My argument with Sten," Hawke looked at her curiously. "Ask Zevran sometime. I'm done with story time," Hawke watched her a moment longer before closing his own eyes. It was with a sense of pride and accomplishment that he realized she was much more comfortable with him than the templar and always had been. It concerned him that he was overtaken by this overwhelming need to gain this woman's trust and openness. Huffing lightly he allowed himself to succumb to sleep.

=/=

Elswyth sat on a fallen tree, one hand covering her face and a pounding headache starting. They were arguing again.

"_You_ know Kirkwall best! I don't understand why we can't just all go together, we're wasting time!"

"I'm not going into Kirkwall! I'm _known_ there! If I go in they'll never let me leave again! And Elswyth is a Dalish _and_ the Hero of Ferelden! She's a little obvious! But it _is_ a good idea Zevran goes in with you so _you_ don't screw us!"

"Like walking in there with a former Crow assassin is a great idea too! _With_ the two of you it would be fine! And I don't want to leave her out her alone with _you_!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a lecherous old poultry, that's what!"

"Better than a stupid virgin kid in a tin can… wait, poultry?"

"_Chicken-Hawke_" Broderick and Hawke appeared to be taking this to a level below adult and Zevran swallowed his laughter.

"Now gentlemen…"

"Serah Prairie Hawke will stay with me. Zevran take Ser Broderick into the city to get our information. We'll meet at the site on Sundermount where my clan used to be."

"But-" Broderick began and Elswyth leveled him with her best 'Commander of the Grey' expression.

"Have no fear for my 'virtue,' Ser templar. My dagger enjoys the taste of lecherous hands," she said it so seriously and Zevran couldn't hold back his laugher anymore.

"Prairie Hawke? Really?" Reven asked in long suffering tones and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You two were arguing like children."

"Well why didn't _he_ get a stupid nickname?"

"He hasn't earned one yet… though that's a little wordy… and I don't like Chicken… I'll think of a proper nickname… maybe 'Peep?'" she raised both eyebrows at him and Zevran was holding his sides as he bodily dragged the annoyed templar away.

"You should ask Varric for advice, he's great at giving nicknames," Reven grumbled.

'Come on, Peep, let's get moving to the meeting spot," she chuckled, rising to her feet.

"No, you are _not_ calling me Peep!" he argued as they made their way around Kirkwall.

An Orlesian hawking his wares on the side of the road caught his attention and Elswyth turned when she realized he was no longer beside her. Curiously she peeked over his shoulder. The fabric of what appeared to be a men's coat slid experimentally through his fingers. Studying it further she realized why it had caught his attention.

It was of especially thick leather, dyed ebony black and was brushed to look like fabric. It was cleverly disguised armor, complete with a red waist coat that had intricately concealed pockets and sheath attachments, re-enforced breeches to match and soft leather boots. She looked up at him questioningly.

"My armor was a 'Champion of Kirkwall' gift and therefore is a little obvious. It also has all this metal and is not as flexible as I would like. I think I want my armor to be more like yours," he flicked the metal to punctuate his point as he considered the garment.

"You'll have to cut the abdomen out of that top to accomplish that," she quipped and he chuckled.

"You know what I mean, flexible as opposed to spiky," he paid for his new armor and they continued on before they were noticed.

Elswyth glanced around curiously once they finally stopped and Hawke dropped his pack. Leave it to a Dalish clan, especially hers, to leave behind almost no trace of their occupation.

They settled down in companionable silence to wait for Zevran and Broderick. Reven pulled out his new armor and began dismantling his current armor, attaching straps, pouches, and accoutrements he would need to the new coat and leggings and Elswyth couldn't help watching him curiously. One by one he removed his daggers from their sheaths so the blade was flush against his forearm and flicked his fingers, sticking the dagger into the soft earth.

"Why do you do that?" she asked as he continued working, not glancing at her while he pulled on his now more heavily reinforced new jacket, trying it out over the plain white cotton shirt he was wearing.

"Do what?" he quickly changed his pants causing her to glance away until he was decent again and she noticed he'd moved most of the accessories save the metal plates and over abundance of straps to the new armor. In the back of her mind she knew she was staring, but she couldn't seem to help it as he secured his dagger sheath straps and folded his waist into the crimson sash. When she finally noticed him grinning at her with a sly knowing look she shook herself with a blush.

"Sorry, it's just hard to tell that's actually armor unless you're looking closely," though it was a thin excuse it was true, he looked like a noble gentleman and it hugged him perfectly in every way…

"Anyway, what I meant is why do you hold the dagger in your right hand backwards?" she concentrated on his face. Casually he shrugged his shoulders and retrieved his daggers.

"I flip them both around a lot when I fight," he accentuated his words by twirling the blades easily through his fingers; the metal glinted wickedly in the golden light before dusk. "I hold onto them with a loose grip so that at a moment's notice I can shift them where I need them," he fell into a neutral-aggressive stance and illustrated by running his arms through a series of deadly jabs and slices, his blades flipped through his hands easily.

"Your method of close-quarters combat is actually very similar to mine," he commented, looking at her sidelong. "Your movements are fluid and you flow around and through your target instead of using stunted, jerky movements like most rogues and warriors. Even Zevran… you can tell is more suited to stealth takedowns than a straight up fight. He supplements poisons for a faster kill."

"The best defense against a Dalish archer is to close the distance and take away their primary weapon. Dodging was a skill I picked up on very quickly out of necessity," she stated matter of factly and he smiled at the idea of a younger Elswyth learning that lesson the hard way.

"Now take that flowing movement and attach a dagger to the tail end of the dodge, think of a whip, and follow through," he slowed his hands down to illustrate and was quietly pleased to see her already on her feet, with her daggers in hand, imitating his movements. Incrementally he increased his speed, watching from the corner of his eye as she matched him, her face a mask of concentration.

In the blink of an eye he shifted positions, blocking her dagger and launching a series of offensive flurries at her. If she was surprised she didn't show it, more focused on continuing to use the techniques he'd demonstrated to counter his attacks.

"Think about it less, you're concentrating too much, let it flow," again he slowly increased the speed, not at all surprised by how quickly she was picking it up. "Loosen your wrists, let it become less of a strike and more of a flowing slash, never let your hands cease movement even during a stab," very soon they were all out sparring. The pair flipped and dodged, slashed and kicked, incorporating the dirty tactics most rogues used.

Elswyth had heard the approaching group, for fuck's sake _Hawke_ could probably hear them with how loud they tromped; only Zevran's light step was difficult to pick out, but she ignored them in favor of focusing on her opponent. The sparring duo were both grinning like fools when the group finally stopped, watching the pair for a few minutes. The three plate wearers were stymied at how fast they moved but Zevran just grinned and enjoyed observing the rogue play. It was rare to get to watch rogues sparring.

Dust clouds gathered around their boots as they practically danced, daggers flashing in the orange light of the setting sun. Elswyth caught his dagger thrust between the hilts of both her daggers, shoving him backward suddenly by locking her elbows. He narrowly missed getting kicked in the jaw as she vaulted backward into a back hand spring, eagerly throwing himself after her to try and force her off balance.

"Oof, who's the elf?" Aveline's unmistakable voice asked as Elswyth caught Reven in the chest with a swift, strong kick that knocked him off his feet. He let himself fall to the ground, absorbing the impact with his shoulder and took out her legs with a sweeping kick, huffing when she somersaulted and rolled nimbly away.

"This, dear, polite Aveline, is Elswyth Mahariel, the Hero of Ferelden," Reven panted, dragging himself to his feet. Elswyth rose as well, albeit more gracefully and nodded respectfully to the ginger haired woman.

"My, my, you found appropriate company then, what are the odds?" Aveline returned Elswyth's nod and smirked at Hawke's exasperated expression.

"Elswyth, this is Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen. You apparently already know Cullen."

"Knight-Captain Cullen," the templar corrected. "Hello, Elswyth, you don't look like you've changed a bit," he nodded to her politely.

"You on the other hand look healthier and less _haunted_," she commented dryly, sheathing her daggers.

"Yes, well… ten years will do that to you," he said uncomfortably and Reven pinned Broderick and Zevran with a glare.

"You two were _supposed_ to bring back the information, not drag Aveline and Cullen _here_," he placed his hands on his hips and looked for all the world like a chiding parent.

"Good to see you too, Hawke," Aveline frowned and crossed her arms over her plate chest.

"Oh don't get cute with me, Aveline. You didn't come out here because you _missed_ me, we both know why you're here… but it could also be because you missed my roguishly handsome features," he waggled his eyebrows.

"_No_ one would come out here for that," Broderick scoffed.

"Care to be castrated?" Hawke asked, flipping his dagger around easily. "Oh, wait, right, you're not supposed to use them anyways, I'll think of something to take that you'll actually miss… maybe your pinky?"

"Quiet, both of you. Cullen, you could have given Zevran and Broderick the information on my clan. Why did you come out here?"

"Well, first off I had to be sure _who_ I was giving it to and secondly…" he paused, weighing his words. "Alistair sent word that in no uncertain terms, if _anyone_ saw you that you were to be detained until he could get here," immediately the three rogues dropped into a combative stance. "Relax!" he held up his hands. "I'm here _alone_. I have no fool notion in my head that I could detain you on my own, even if you had no accompaniment, and I hear you've improved since I saw you at Lake Calenhad. I simply wanted to warn you, he's sending missives all over and offering a _large_ reward for information regarding your location," Elswyth studied him.

"Why are you helping me? As I recall you disagreed with me whole heartedly in Ferelden. And I might add the Calenhad Circle is one of the few still standing."

"I know," he admitted, nodding. "I remember your words and it was Serah Hawke who made me see the truth in them, actually," he gestured to the rogue who shrugged sheepishly.

"Don't believe him. I'm a terrible person, really."

"I can vouch for that," Aveline quipped.

"Hey!" he protested Elswyth rolled her eyes.

"You're protesting her confirming what you just stated yourself?" she shook her head as Cullen stepped forward to give her the directions to her clan's new camping area. Aveline took the opportunity to pull Reven to the side.

"Hawke, you should really consider coming back, Kirkwall needs you," he was already shaking his head as she spoke.

"I knew this was coming. Kirkwall doesn't _need_ me. I probably screwed it up worse. Besides, it's been here long before I got here. It'll be fine without me," he crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Fine, if I can't convince you then I won't brow beat you. But Hawke, this Elswyth woman… she seems to be a good one. I like her a lot better than that pirate harlot you were with before," Hawke shut his eyes with a groan. He knew the elf had heard every word.

"What is it with you people and not _getting_ that she's an _elf_! If you want to talk about her behind her back you have to walk two miles away and then WHISPER!" everyone stared at him during his outburst and only Elswyth had a hint of amusement on her features. "And no, it's not like that..." he said returning his voice to a low volume.

"I know you were upset when she disappeared. I never knew what you saw in her, but she was more trouble than she was worth, Hawke, and you know it," Reven sighed.

"So you keep saying, can we drop it please?" he asked in aggravation and Aveline nodded.

Cullen and Aveline headed back to the city shortly after and the group made camp where they were since dusk was weaving its way across the sky by that point bringing darkness with it.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thank you, Andrigno, for being my one loyal reviewer! I'm glad you're liking it and keep the suggestions and critique coming! Madd Madds, I will be answering that as time goes on, I'm already working on the next chapter and that should be in there. There is some elvish in this chapter, usually I made the character repeat the meaning after the elven word with the exception of the term they use to address Elswyth which is explained by her in a later chapter. Oh, and the clan name is Sabrae, that's mentioned too. Hope you enjoy! R&R!

Day break found their campsite already empty, both to avoid the confirmation that the Champion was seen outside Kirkwall and because Elswyth wanted to get this visit over with. The clan was in the Wildervale and the troupe still needed to complete crossing the Vinmark Mountains. With a templar in tow, this was going to slow things down.

To be honest, she couldn't quite figure out when _that_ decision was made, but for reasons unbeknownst to her he was continuing on with them. It wasn't that she objected to his company terribly; he was actually quite a handsome man, with dark, unruly, short hair and rugged features, as well as being quite useful in combat. Petty squabbles with Hawke aside, he also seemed to be a kind hearted man. But the more people that traveled with them the more complicated things became.

"Don't you have more _templar-ey _things to do than follow us around like a lost puppy?" Hawke threw over his shoulder at the templar as he drew alongside Elswyth who stood, still as a statue on the ridge, studying the valley laid out before them. Despite the 'extra baggage' as Hawke had eloquently phrased it earlier that day, they were making good progress. Ticking the time off in her head she calculated they might reach the clan camp well before nightfall.

"This _is_ 'templar-ey,'" he retorted. "We have no templars deployed into the wilds north of Kirkwall, so Knight-Captain Cullen said I should go with you," Broderick's breath came in small puffs, belying the extra weight his plate caused for him.

"Who put _him_ in charge anyways," Reven groused and continued down the ridge after Zevran. Broderick finally drew alongside Elswyth, attempting not to pant too loudly. He wasn't exactly a rogue, his steps were heavy, loud, and his plate slowed him down, but she couldn't fault him for that.

"Are you looking forward to seeing your clan?" he looked at her curiously.

"Not really," she squinted, focusing her vision on a clearing miles away. It wouldn't look like a clearing to others, if they could even see that far, but to the eyes of a Dalish it was a clear clan camp. She could even tell where they had placed the statue of Fen'Harel. Long moments passed while she studied the landscape and he was afraid to ask for elaboration, still unsure of himself in regards to the relatively stoic, brusque woman. Abruptly she sighed, taking him by surprise.

"That's not entirely accurate. It's complicated. Needless to say they are not the same clan I left when I joined the Wardens ten years ago, but that does not mean there are not people there I love," she glanced up at him and he nodded in understanding.

"It's sort of like that when I go home. Being a templar since youth obviously changed me much and my family continued to grow in their own direction. I find I have little in common with them anymore," his voice held that same boyish innocence that Alistair's had possessed so long ago and she appraised him with a small smile.

"Remember that feeling when you consider the mages who've returned to their families in this trying time. Many of them were taken against their will before they could even know who their families were and now they have a chance to make up for lost time. Not all of them are evil. A great many are, but keep your heart open to those who are not," Broderick stared at her; that was the most she'd said directly to him and him alone since he'd joined them, but it was her words that gave him pause.

An inconsistency down the hill caught her attention near where Zevran and Reven had stopped to talk while waiting on Elswyth and the templar. Broderick flinched as her bow suddenly appeared in hand and she let an arrow fly.

"What-?" her arrow thunked into the leaves above Reven and the rogue's exclamation was cut short, leaping nimbly to the side as a bandit raider's body almost fell on him. Their ambush failed, the raiders now surged from their hiding spots in the flora around, quickly surrounding Reven and Zevran.

"Remember, the Warden and Champion _alive!_ Kill the other two!"

"How rude! Well that makes it obvious they are not from the Crows, eh?" Zevran quipped as he stabbed the closest one in the neck. Elswyth bounded down the slope, letting loose arrow after arrow into the fray; blood spurted in pin wheeling fans as the two rogues below danced. With a ferocious shout Broderick pulled his sword and shield and charged into the conflict, slamming his way through a line of enemies.

Elswyth dodged a few arrows, knocking the projectiles to the side with her bow before returning fire blindly to the spot they originated from, rewarded by bodies falling dead to the ground below the trees they were perched in. The trees were quite dense in this area and not only made visibility difficult but also left her exceedingly exposed on the clear side of the ridge.

Magical energy curled around the elf and she dodged too late, a stone fist materialized out of thin air and slammed her hard, knocking the wind right out of her. The world turned topsy-turvy as she tumbled a short distance down the hill before grappling desperately at the hillside and halting her tumultuous movement, greedily gasping to fill her lungs with oxygen again.

"Broderick!" she wheezed as loud as she could manage, "mage!" the templar had gone barreling into the trees and underbrush resulting in loss of visual contact. She had no idea where he was. Carefully she regained her feet on the steep mountainside and continued picking off raiders with precisely fired arrows. Reven grinned up at her and saluted when the warrior charging him suddenly ran himself straight into the ground, a long arrow shaft protruding from both sides of his neck.

Hawke leapt high to deliver a shattering blow to an enemy and was halted mid air by a shimmering field. Apparently either Broderick hadn't found the mage yet or there were two of them. Reven's body stiffened as the magical energy began to crush him.

"Reven!" she left her perch and dashed onto the field, knocking back enemies and dodging their blows, firing arrows point blank in an effort to cover the vulnerable rogue. Finally by his side she stowed her bow and pulled wicked daggers, the whirlwind of her movements cut down swaths of enemies. A raider attempted to strike the suspended rogue from behind, raising his sword high above his head. Suddenly he spasmed hard, a dagger protruding from his right eye socket. Elswyth grabbed the hilt and kicked his chest, ripping it free as he fountained blood, using the momentum to slam bodily into the next assailant, knocking him down and dragging her dagger up his torso from belly button to collarbone. As the raider fell she took out the hamstrings of the next nearest enemy, driving her dagger to the hilt in his sternum as he came crashing down. Now in the valley she caught sight of Broderick, pursuing a fleeing mage.

The effect abruptly wore off and Hawke dropped to the ground, looking very dizzy and disoriented, he gulped eagerly, filling his lungs full of air and grimaced sharply.

"And here I thought they wanted us alive," he drawled between panted breaths, steadying himself using her shoulder. Then nearly fell over as she spun away, cutting the legs out from under a charging raider and slashing his throat, using her enemy's downward momentum. Hawke neatly sidestepped the spray of crimson, using a tree to catch his balance as the man went crashing head first to the ground, gurgling the whole way.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible stabilizing element?" he asked her as she straightened and smiled, eyes momentarily glazing over, gazing out over their small battlefield. Broderick was trudging back to them, covered in blood and Zevran finished off the last of his opponents.

A pitiful groan nearby drew her attention, and she stepped lightly over, gripping her dagger with one hand as she crouched by one of the apparently still alive raiders.

"_Who_ wants us 'alive'," she inquired, gripping the neck of his jerkin. The man gurgled a little and she cringed distastefully.

"The King 'o Ferelden…" more gurgling, "offer'd a handsome reward…" she stared at him dumbfounded.

"I doubt he would have rewarded you for dragging me back unconscious in a sack!" all he did was gurgle after that and she slit his throat, quickly ending his suffering.

"What? You killed him? He was unarmed!" Broderick protested.

"He was already dead. His brain simply hadn't caught up. Without a mage specialized in healing that gurgle spelled a slow, painful death. I spared him the first two parts," she stood and stepped daintily away, avoiding the rapidly spreading pool of blood. "I'm going to _kill_ him," she hissed, cleaning her daggers on a patch of grass. "He didn't _think_ his little reward _wouldn't_ elicit this kind of reaction? He put a bounty on my head!"

"_Our_ heads," Reven corrected, working hard to keep the grunt of pain from his voice as he looted the bodies.

"… You're right. Why… would he include you…?" she looked at him oddly, as though by staring at him she could derive the answer. Without thinking he shrugged his broad shoulders and couldn't stop the wince from crossing his features. "That spell broke some ribs, didn't it? Broderick, grab some poultices from my pack," Hawke started to protest but she pinned him with a look.

"We still have a good distance to travel," she dropped her voice a notch, "do you want to be trailing behind Broderick because you can't breathe?" she challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine!" he glowered and she smirked smugly. Indignant protests started up again when she ordered him to open up his coat and pull up his shirt.

"First off, I can't apply the poultice to your jacket, secondly would you rather Zevran or Broderick to do it? Because you're definitely not going to be able to reach and set each one," Zevran waggled his eyebrows and Hawke scowled. "I thought so, you prude," he gaped at her as he pulled his shirt up, revealing already bruising ribs.

"It has nothing to do with that! I can just probably reach it myself, you nag," he countered and she nodded disbelievingly.

"Sure," she rolled her eyes and he pouted, then his breath hitched as she smoothed the healing substance over his ribs and around his back.

"What the hell, why is it so cold?"

"Quit complaining. Here, swallow this," she gave him a tiny vial. Turning his head to the side he drank it as her small hands encircled his ribs, searching gently for the ones that were broken.

"Ouch."

"That one… aaand…"

"Ouch."

"That one…"

"Damnit, woman, I can _tell_ you which ones- OW! Ok, now that one I didn't know about," he squirmed uncomfortably and she smirked, trying hard not to think about the fact that she was practically hugging his bare chest. The tiny tips of her fingers found and moved each bone back into place, already feeling the warmth of the balm working.

Abruptly he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Uh… Hawke?"

"Now this I could get used to," he smacked his lips, "what was that exactly that stuff you made me drink?"

"A potion to dull the pain… it has… side effects. I didn't think it would kick in so soon."

"Is that the same stuff you gave Sten to drink that had him making shadow puppets on the side of the tent?" Zevran asked, suppressing his laughter. She sighed.

"Yes, but I always forget how strong it is and that other races have no tolerance for it," the rogue continued to fidget like a squirmy youth as she finished setting the bones and applying the poultice before pulling his jacket back into place. "There, that should get you to-" his fingers pinching the bridge of her nose stopped her mid-word, her eyes crossing involuntarily.

"Elves noses are so cute. Like kittens! Every time I look at you I get the urge to rub your nose right between your eyes," Zevran was laughing hysterically and Broderick simply stood dumbfounded next to him. "I bet I could get you to purr doing that," he swayed a little. "Failing that I know something else that will…"

"Aaand that's enough of that. Let's get moving," she interrupted him before he could say something lewd and Hawke stared at his hand, obviously thoroughly confused, possibly convinced it may have the answers he sought.

"What the hell is wrong with me? Even that shit Isabella made me drink didn't make me like this," Elswyth grabbed his sleeve and dragged him along, leaving the equipment for the other two to carry.

"Let's hope there are no more attacks until this wears off."

"Wow, your hair is really long… and pretty," he stared at the swaying strands, mesmerized before reaching forward to bat at it with his free hand.

"Uh-huh."

* * *

><p>They fortunately weren't accosted again before reaching the edge of the Dalish camp. The goofy effect of the potion had yet to wear off however and he was singing some dirty, tavern brawl limerick under his breath as they approached. At least he wasn't shouting it anymore as he had been before; her threat to remove his 'reason for living' had him tone it down to a tolerable level.<p>

"Ellllly, the kitten people keep staring at me," he abruptly told her in a whisper loud enough to negate the whole reason for whispering, she couldn't help smiling at that.

"He can see those guards even as drugged up as he is right now?" Zevran asked incredulously.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," Elswyth smiled back.

"What guards? I don't see anyone?" Broderick glanced around himself in confusion.

"Nor should you, Broderick," the Warden responded cryptically back.

The scouts had nearly fallen over when they saw who was leading the strange group approaching the clan camp and they beat a hasty retreat ahead to inform the clan.

"Aneth ara, greetings to you of the Sabrae," she greeted the guards who practically melted out of the wood and into existence, parting as they approached, staring at her in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Andaran atish'an, dorf'falon, enter in peace," replied the guard, it was unsettling to her to have such familiar faces regard her so. The troupe progressed further into the camp, passing many recognizable aravels, others newer, and others still missing from where memories long buried would have them. When Ashalle came running out with a smile that took in her face and tears in her eyes, embracing her adopted daughter it seemed to break the spell. All at once the clan pressed in around them, all wanting to know everything and everyone wanted to hug her.

Still holding Hawke's sleeve she glanced back at him, now blessedly silent as he gazed around at all the 'kitten people,' a decidedly sleepy expression on his face. She'd need to find a place for him to lie down soon.

Merrill finally appeared and practically tackled her, breaking up some of the overwhelming attention she was receiving.

"By the Creators! I thought I'd never see you again!" Merrill virtually blubbered and Elswyth hugged the woman with her free arm. When she finally pulled back she noticed Hawke and looked at him oddly. "What's Hawke doing here? And what's wrong with him?"

"Hi, Daisy!" the drugged rogue's attention was prematurely drawn moments later by something off to their side that no one else was capable of determining.

"A mage caught him in a spell and crushed some of his ribs, so I reset them and gave him a small dose of that anesthetic…"

"A _small_ dose? How long ago?" she asked, noticing how sleepy he looked.

"A few hours ago, do you have a spot he can lie down in? It should wear off in a few hours."

"A small dose?" she repeated with a grin. "Oh lethallan, my friend you know better. Humans can't tolerate our herbs like we can."

"Apparently neither can Qunari" Elswyth mumbled and Zevran snickered as Merrill led her to the clan bonfire and they set down a blanket for him. He was out like a light the moment he lay down. Broderick and Zevran stuck right by her, obviously feeling out of place.

"Abelas, I'm sorry for my manners, my companions are able to be trusted. Treat Zevran as though he were lethallin and Broderick is respectful of the People," Merrill nodded and gave a traditional greeting.

"Zevran, I remember meeting you, briefly. Andaranatish'an, be welcome among us," she spread her hands and he bowed.

"I bid you thanks."

"Hamin! Rest, be well! Our camp is open to you all," Merrill smiled warmly.

"Ma, serannas, we are grateful to the clan," Elswyth nodded her thanks for her people's generosity.

"Hawke! Andraste's knickers, what's wrong with him?" Varric came trudging up, looking curiously between the taller company.

"He's fine, Varric, just drugged to heal some ribs," Merrill reassured him but he was already chuckling.

"Well _someone_ knows him well then; practically have to hog-tie the guy when he's injured to get him to sit still. And who is this lovely creature?" he looked up at Elswyth appraisingly and she got the distinct impression he already knew.

"Varric Tethras, meet Elswyth Mahariel, the-"

"Legendary Hero of Ferelden, tales have spread far and wide, but all are pale shadows in comparison to your magnanimous beauty," he bowed.

"I see Reven described you accurately, you do me great honor," she quirked a smile as she bowed back and he cackled.

"In this case I wasn't exaggerating for once, but it's good to know my reputation precedes me," he smiled broadly.

"Come, join us, we were preparing the evening meal. We have much to talk about!"


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Just a warning to my dear readers, I am and always have been a hopeless romantic and a lover of fluff. So you'll see a lot of fluff conversations and interactions in my stories. Don't forget to review! Already your questions and suggestions have altered the flow of the story, so keep it coming! ... otherwise I may just run out of creative oomph!

* * *

><p>Supper passed filled with tales of the Warden and Ferelden as well as news on the clan: who bonded who, which couples have had kids, who's expecting, the kids she knew who were now full hunters. Ten years is a long time to be gone. The clan had grown so much and there were so many new faces. It saddened her to see that Pol had not made it. When last she'd spoken with him he'd barely become a part of the clan family and already he was gone. The Sabrae had endured so much.<p>

Then there were so many questions regarding the dark veins on her jaw and what had happened to her ear. Many sat aghast that she had suffered so having barely left the clan. Had it not been for Wynne at Ostagar she may not have made it to the joining as she had become desperately ill with the darkspawn sickness. Incessant questions regarding her ear she carefully answered, telling them Loghain had tortured her before the landsmeet. At Ashalle's insistence she pulled off her gauntlets to allow them to see her hands then carefully removed the grey cotton shirt from beneath her Dalish leathers, revealing the multitude of scars that traveled the length and width of her shoulders, arms and back. Hawke had awakened by now and lay on his side, watching the story telling in interest. To say Hawke was shocked would be an understatement. Of course the ones on her abdomen were always visible, but her shirt covered quite a bit of traumatized looking skin. Most of these had happened at the hands of her captors and had never healed properly due to the time in between the torture and their escape.

The clan fawned over her, expressing their heartfelt sorrow at her suffering which she attempted to brush off. All this attention made her uncomfortable.

"But, dorf'falon," even though she was younger than some of the elders, Hahren Paivel felt it inappropriate to call her da'len considering the ten years of her absence had aged her far past what any of them would ever experience, "why have you altered your leathers so?" she glanced down at her now bare arms then back at him. "Changing for another set of armor would be perfectly understandable, but why have you modified your original hunters set? I still remember you crafting that chest piece over ten years ago," Elswyth gave a small smile, lost in pleasant memories for just a moment.

"Because Dalish is what I am… and Warden is what I am. There are NO Dalish in the lands of the humans. The elves that live there reside in squalor of their own choosing and have lost the way of the People. This means that my form of dress was very foreign and off putting for almost everyone I encountered. Especially with how much skin we are comfortable with showing. I was not willing to lose my identity just because I made people uncomfortable, so I chose to adapt," she picked up the grey cotton shirt she had set aside.

"I wear this under my leathers to cover me more decently to their standards. I am even capable of unrolling the bottom to cover my stomach if my appearance truly upset them," she illustrated by shaking the shirt out, revealing it was actually a full length shirt. Hawke soaked up all he could, watching her from his position across the fire still attempting to appear he was asleep. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel less comfortable if she thought he was awake and listening.

"But why?" Paivel pressed. "I don't understand why this would be so upsetting for them?" Elswyth gave him a strained smile.

"Human women are always covered almost completely unless they are wearing armor. To show an inordinate amount of skin usually meant you were a loose woman or a whore," the clan collectively gasped. Though their standards were different from that of humans, it was unthinkable to judge someone merely based on clothing alone. Though living in the shadow of Kirkwall had brought them close to shemlen, they never truly mingled with the citizens, preferring to remain apart. "Culture differences were quite a shock to me upon entering the wide world of humans," she said sarcastically, balling up her shirt into her fist.

"I showed up at Ostagar, wearing my traditional hunter's leathers, my vallaslin, my bow and my daggers and was stared at like I was a spirit from the beyond. It was unnerving," she chuckled a little, attempting to lighten the now oppressive mood. "But not all was bad. I met a lot of very good people in my travels and many people did show me respect. Just as they are foreign to us, I was like nothing they had ever seen before. Many people were actually afraid of me," she chuckled again and quite a few of the clan laughed at that. Elswyth had always been a silent and odd one to them, but to find her scary? Many of them smiled. To them she was just another child of the forest.

Finally the clan began to filter off to their respective aravels for the night and Elswyth was feeling less like a freak on display than before, but it was still discomfiting to have so much attention heaped upon her. Quietly Elswyth moved to Merrill's side and sat next to her, surprised by how exposed she felt without her cotton shirt, the fire playing shadows across her toned and scarred arms. She had grown accustomed to having them covered. Strange how time changed you.

"Conversation carefully avoided all mention of Marethari and your acting Keeper position. Tell me," the command was a soft one but it was unyielding and Merrill's eyes were already watering.

"It was all my fault. I'm sure Hawke told you some of what happened. She took in a demon to protect me. Why didn't she trust me?" her voice quivered and tears began to fall.

"Merrill… I had been planning on lecturing and regaling you with the horrors I've seen inflicted by good intentioned blood magic users and the pain brought by demons… but you've suffered that enough. However I need to know one thing… _why_ the mirror? You saw what it did. How it destroyed our lives. Why?"

"I don't know," Merrill's voice faltered, filled with emotion, "I missed you both so much after you were gone. Perhaps to give reason to such senseless loss? We never found out what happened to Tamlen…"

"He found me. Much later," Elswyth's voice took on a deadpan tone and Merrill looked at her with wide, watery, horror-struck eyes. "He was dark, tainted and twisted, but he regained enough of his mind to say he was sorry and to beg me to end him," Elswyth's head dropped slightly, shadowing her face to hide the still raw pain at those memories. Killing him was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She omitted his admission of love before he died, that was for her alone.

"Oh, Els, I'm so sorry… you two-"

"What's past is past. I wish you had realized that sooner," she glanced at Merrill with sad eyes. "I wish _I_ had realized… maybe helped you cope with it before I left…"

"No… I probably wouldn't have listened anyway," Merrill considered her. "Being the Warden Commander has changed you. You would barely speak two words when you were da'len unless Tamlen was around. There's so much more that's happened to you than what you've told us… dark, painful things…" Merrill's insight had grown over the years and Elswyth smiled ruefully.

"You'll make a wise Keeper yet, Merrill. A lot of things have changed me. You all have changed too," she pointed out.

"You should stay and be Keeper… like your father."

"No," Elswyth shook her head. "I've been from the People too long. You will regain their trust, give it time," she smiled at Merrill encouragingly. Elswyth looked up to see Reven finally sitting up across the fire and smiled.

"Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," he made a face at her nickname and grinned.

"I'll get him some food," Merrill offered rising. Balling her cotton shirt tighter in her hand, embarrassed that she hadn't had a chance to put it back on she made her way over to his side of the fire and sat beside him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she went, noting his state of alertness.

"Fine!" he blurted out at her unvoiced accusation, "I've actually been awake since about halfway through your storytelling. I just didn't want to get up yet," she shook her head at him with a small smile. Merrill came back then with his food and Varric followed, plopping down next to his friend.

"I have to admit, even the accurate versions of your story are impressive," the dwarf praised, considering her with glittering eyes.

"Lady Grey is quite awesome, huh?" Hawke asked in between mouthfuls.

"Lady Grey?" Varric asked and Elswyth rolled her eyes.

"Yea, hoofta! She should tell you _that_ story sometime… talk about creepy," Hawke emphasized, waving his hand about as Zevran moved to the fire, followed by Broderick and the assassin looked at her questioningly.

"Ruck," Elswyth simply said.

"Oh, right," Zevran shuddered. "Those are days I would rather forget," Elswyth nodded empathically.

"We were sent from Orzammar into the deep roads to find someone… a paragon. It took us weeks just to track her down. While we were down there we ran into a dwarf who'd become lost and separated from his deeproads expedition team. To survive he'd sustained himself on darkspawn flesh," Elswyth shuddered and the group collectively mirrored her sentiment. "The taint has a way of binding like creatures together. He wasn't darkspawn yet, but he could hear the archdemon. His insight was unnerving," it had bothered her intensely what he'd said about her and the darkness he'd seen in her. The 'twilight' he'd called it. Elswyth had never hated any place more than the deeproads. So much rock above her was unnatural.

"I'll never understand normal dwarves," Varric shook his head, "I hate being underground," Elswyth agreed wholeheartedly.

"Speaking of a dwarf not being where he belongs, why are _you_ here, Varric?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Miss Seeker finished her grueling session of interrogation and by that time I'd completely lost track of where you may have gone. So instead I decided to pay Daisy a leisurely visit," the look he shared with Merrill indicated there may be more to this portion of the story than either was willing to divulge at the moment.

Conversation continued pleasantly for some time until one by one they trailed off to bed. Absently, as Merrill rose to retire to her aravel, Hawke realized Elswyth had disappeared. She was here only moments before. Swiveling around he leaned forward and finally caught sight of her, just within the treeline. Her back was to him and she swept her curtain of hair aside, quickly stripping off her leather chestplate. A heated blush settled across Reven's cheeks at seeing her bare back but he couldn't look away as he watched her put her cotton shirt back on, carefully rolling it then strapping her armor back in place, adjusting her bracers and gauntlets over the sleeves. Maker… despite her scars she had an amazing body… he cleared his throat and forced those thoughts away for later, attempting to look natural when she finally appeared again and sat beside him.

"So, you don't want to stay and be Keeper for your clan?" he asked as a way of distracting her from any residual redness that might be in his cheeks and she shot an annoyed look at him that said he'd eavesdropped and he grinned back.

"No, I've been away too long. These aren't my people anymore. They will always love me and welcome me here, but I do not belong anymore," she gazed into the fire.

"That's kind of how I felt about returning to Lothering. There was as much for me there as there was in Kirkwall," they both fell silent, just watching the flames. "El, I was wondering, what is it they call you here?" her eyes slid a fraction more closed, leaving just a sliver to shimmer in the firelight.

"Dorf'falon, it literally means 'grey friend,' referring to the taint they feel inside me," he cocked his head at her oddly spoken explanation and she sighed. "Some of the hahren can feel shifts in nature. Marethari was especially talented at it. She could _feel_ the taint in the land before Duncan's timely arrival to recruit me to the Grey Wardens. Unlike Ruck who felt a kinship with it, they can feel its destructive nature like a plague. That's part of what makes Grey Wardens so powerful against the Blight. We can _feel_ or sense the darkspawn. Unfortunately it's a dual edged sword. They can feel us too and if we leave ourselves exposed it can mean our doom," they both fell silent, considering her words. As an explanation it had only raised more questions in him that he wasn't sure she would answer.

"How are your ribs?" she broke the stillness after quite a long pause.

"Fine," he pushed on them to emphasize. "Completely healed I think. Thank you," she nodded. "So are we still headed to Arlathan?" he clasped his hands around his knees and looked over at her as she nodded, still staring into the fire.

"It's not the safest place to travel with the Tevinter Imperium on one side and Antiva on the other, but I want to see it before I die," she said wistfully.

"Die? You're not even close to that, why-?"

"Being a Warden is a death sentence," she cut into his question earning a stunned expression from him and she sighed quietly. "From the time of the Joining you have about thirty years. That being the case I have twenty years left, give or take. Probably less since I was tainted before the joining," she shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"I think it does, that's terrible," he looked at her in a whole new light. It was literally like having a terminal illness and just counting the days until you die. Granted she had slightly more time than that. "Wait, I thought the Joining saved you from the taint?"

"You should get some sleep," she interrupted this heavily depressing line of conversation, eager to draw their attention away from it and he let her drop it. "We probably won't leave for a day or so, but I'm sure they'll have questions for you since you 'slept' the whole night," she gave him a small teasing smile. Now more than ever he wanted to make her smile more often. He felt such a kinship with her as her life had been as difficult as his own. Now knowing she had a time limit just made it that much worse. Any of them could die at any time, but to feel a clock ticking down like that?

"Nah, they were nice enough to me before. And thanks to your little potion, not only do they think I'm completely unhinged, but I'm not tired at all," he grinned disarmingly down at her and she couldn't help smiling back.

"So… kitten people?" she asked, a small grin gracing her features and he groaned, collapsing onto his back with his hands covering his face.

"No chance we can pretend that never happened?" his words were muffled slightly by his hands and she chuckled.

"Nope," a stifled groan met her ears and she laughed a little more this time. "Do you really have the urge to pet my nose?" she asked him, her voice now laden with longsuffering tones. "Because that would be really weird and awkward should you give in to that desire," he could think of a few other desires he'd _rather_ give in to, but he wasn't going to tell _her_ that… yet. Abruptly he sat up, gazing down at the smaller woman, an evil grin spreading across his features.

"Oh really?" unbelievably she shrank away from him slightly, her large eyes wide and locked onto his face, trying to anticipate where he was taking this. "Maybe I'll start petting your nose just to irritate you," the threatening tone of his voice was ruined by the teasing glint of his light blue eyes.

"If you value your fingers where they are currently then you will not," her chin lifted defiantly but she couldn't stop her smile from curving the corners of her mouth. Abruptly he scooted closer to her and she leaned away, watching him warily.

"See, saying things like that just makes me want to do it more," fast as lightning his hand shot out and gripped the bridge of her nose, holding it gently between his thumb and forefinger as she attempted to jerk away, following the movement with his shoulder and body so as not to pinch too firmly and hurt her. Comically her eyes crossed slightly, focusing on his fingers before straightening out to his face with a glower.

"Are you _trying_ to lose fingers?" her threat sounded as empty as it really was and he grinned down at her.

"At least I didn't lean my chin on your head while you were hugging my bare chest," he chose that moment to stop pinching and run his thumb down the bridge of her nose before letting her go. _Bingo_. Bright red blush that went straight up her ears.

"I was _not_ hugging you!" the small elf sputtered slightly and he highly enjoyed watching her blush travel down her neck and disappear into her shirt. "Fine! Next time I'll leave you with broken ribs so you can huff along behind Broderick, you scruffy, ungrateful oaf!"

"Hey, hey, I'm not scruffy," he scratched the rough, far beyond five o'clock shadow hair that coated his angular chin and cheeks. "Ok maybe just a little," he gave her a pleased, roguish grin and she huffed, crossing her arms.

* * *

><p>They relaxed for the next day, enjoying the reprieve from travel. Zevran hovered around Master Ilen, learning how to craft elven bows and Broderick pestered Paivel about Dalish lore. Merrill caught up with Elswyth as she returned from hunting with the other hunters. They had all been astounded by her accuracy and skill with a bow, many of them asking in awed tones what she had done to alter her weapon. It dawned on her that even among her own people she was an oddity. Modified armor, her tainted face, enchanted bow and daggers. Despite her insistence otherwise, people around her really did see her as a legend. She had become accustomed to magically enhanced weapons and armor and their awe at such things was understandable. With a kind smile she handed off her kills to a younger hunter, one she had last seen as only a small child, the wonder in his eyes was unmistakable, before moving with Merrill to the side of the clan camp.<p>

"So… Hawke? How did that happen? All I knew was that he'd just disappeared in the night. No one knew where he'd gone," Merrill glanced at her childhood friend.

"Would you believe I tripped over him? Literally?" Merrill laughed quietly at the thought.

"That sounds _so_ like the both of you. Leave it to the two most influential people in all of Thedas to randomly run into one another," the mage chuckled.

"Not the _most_ influential," Elswyth protested. "Merrill," she said, becoming serious, "you traveled with him for a few years. Is he really as _face value_ as he seems?" Elswyth studied her friend as she considered the question.

"Hawke can be… both complicated and simple at the same time, but I think most people are. Sometimes it was difficult to tell his true feelings under the jokes, but he was always honest. Sometimes _too_ honest," she shook her head with a smile. "That was one thing about Hawke, he's always sarcastic, but he put every one of us first. It was hard to get close to him because he uses his humor and sarcasm as a wall. Then the one person he let close betrayed him… several times," Elswyth watched her curiously.

"This _Isabella_ I've heard about?" she asked and Merrill nodded.

"Isabella was beautiful and worldly, everything most men dream of… except stability. She said she didn't want to be tied down, but repeatedly kept leading him on, giving him hope. She even invited him to sail with her, then one day she disappeared, came back to return something then disappeared again." Elswyth was pretty sure she'd met this woman. Truly how many promiscuous Isabella captains specializing in dueling could there be?

"After that, Hawke closed himself off again to everyone but Varric. He seems much happier now though, _genuinely_ happy, not that fake happy he showed everyone. Probably because he's no longer in Kirkwall. I know that makes _me_ happy," Merrill grinned at her friend. "Hawke's life seems to have been one tragedy after another. It was cruel of Isabella to do that to him, but then I guess it was to be expected," Merrill looked away, indicating to Elswyth that Hawke was not the only one hurt by her disappearance.

"Fleeing Lothering and losing his brother during their flight, having his sister dragged away by the templars… but the death of his mother hit him especially hard."

"He mentioned something about a crazy necromantic blood mage?" Elswyth raised an eyebrow and Merrill shivered.

"He was making light of things again. That was truly a horrible experience even for me… and she wasn't _my_ mother," Merrill looked away in distress and Elswyth's eyebrows rose in concern. "There was a string of kidnappings over about a three year period in Kirkwall. Random older noble women with no strong connections to society began disappearing every few months or so. Hawke's mother, Leandra was the last to go missing. Finally we tracked him down, but by then it was too late. The necromancer's late wife had an uncanny resemblance to Leandra…"

"Oh, no…" Elswyth could see where this was going.

"The man… pieced her… back together using… parts… that resembled his dead wife. He used the hands from one of the women we'd tried to track down…" Merrill swallowed hard, remembering how his poor mother had tried shuffling in a body that was not her own toward her son. "With the mage dead the magic keeping her alive was broken," Merrill rubbed her face. "Oh it was awful… Hawke didn't leave his estate for a week after that. Then he just reappeared one day, acting as if nothing had happened and business continued as usual. When anyone tried to talk about it he would laugh or tell some joke and avoid the subject," Merrill looked up at her friend with soulful eyes.

"Not long after that was when Isabella disappeared. That too he shrugged off, trying to pass it off as some fling, and though we knew better he wouldn't let any of us comfort him. He'd always turn it around on us in some manner and end up helping us with some problem or another. We kept expecting him to someday just crack right down the middle, but it never happened. He just kept on being the same sarcastic, nice guy we all knew him to be.

"Isabella lied to him from the very moment he met her, and even right before her disappearance she only told him the truth because it would save her life. That and Hawke was about to find out anyway. Then she took what she needed and disappeared, leaving Hawke… what's that human phrase? Holding the bag?" Merrill shook her head. "How many years did I live with humans and I still never got the hang of their idiosyncrasies. Anyway, it was cruel of her to leave him like that."

"Well, it's good to know he's not always a pain in the ass," Elswyth said loudly, looking over her shoulder at the rogue pointedly as he approached them.

"Oh, no! Not all the time anyways. He even gave me a little wooden halla-" Elswyth stopped her friend's ramblings by pointing behind them. Merrill blushed. "By the dread wolf! I always put my foot in my mouth at the worst times!"

"Meaning there's a _good_ time to put your foot in your mouth?" Hawke chuckled as he finally drew alongside them.

"If it means silencing you, then yes," Elswyth crossed her arms as she looked up at him. Hawke placed his hand over his heart with an exaggerated expression of grief.

"Oh, Lady Grey you wound me."

"Oh, Hawke, she was just kidding-" his grin stopped her mid-sentence, "-and you were too. Creators! I can't get the hang of this sarcasm thing!" Elswyth and Hawke laughed.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry it's so short, lot going on in my life right now. Don't forget to review and let me know how I can improve/what changes you'd like to see, or ideas for where the story should go. I'm in a quandary though... I haven't read the Silent Grove yet and I really need to, it may be pertinent to how I write later chapters... let me know what you guys think?

* * *

><p>Elswyth once again said goodbye to her clan, but this time it was sans trepidation and less of a heavy heart. This time it was of her own choosing. A decision wrought not of necessity, or survival, but of a misguided sense of belonging. Would she ever feel at home again? Even amongst the Wardens she was always the 'Commander,' the 'Hero of Ferelden.' An icon, not a forlorn, lonely elf. Of course not.<p>

"So, Elswyth, what direction are we taking to get to Arlathan?" Zevran questioned as they paused to rest, the sun already casting the forest in the gold hues of sunset.

"You know, none of you need follow me. This trip is interesting solely to the only Dalish present… me."

"My dear, I would follow you to the ends of the earth," Zevran gave her a disarming smile.

"You know _my_ reason for being here," Hawke shrugged, refusing to elaborate further.

"I'm here in the interests of the templars, so…" Broderick paused and Elswyth shook her head.

"Wow, you guys need lives," she grinned at their flabbergasted expressions, skipping ahead to look for a good spot to camp for the night. Zevran quickly caught up to her.

"The reason I am asking is because we will be passing by Antiva and I was wondering if we could make a pit stop," his request was an odd one and Elswyth slid her eyes in a sideways glance, appraising the assassin. "You said you have not seen Antiva before and it really is quite the gem," she cocked her head, studying him.

"Isn't that a _bad_ idea considering the Crows are still a little sore about you ditching them and on top of that killing all the ones sent after you? Not to mention they hold no love for me or Hawke..." she asked, bringing a grin to his features.

"That adds to the adventure, do you not think so? Besides, they will not think that I am stupid enough to go walking right into Antiva," he added merrily and she gave him a pointed look as he grinned again.

"Let's go to Arlathan first, then re-supply in Antiva. Does that suit you?" she raised an eyebrow at him and he gave her a roguish grin.

"Absolutely."

They made excellent time through the Wildervale, the two elves bounded through the trees with their human rogue compatriot, stopping often to let Broderick catch up. For much of the trip Zevran took to traveling beside the templar to ease his mind while Reven and Elswyth disappeared ahead, showing the human the tricks of the forest. Broderick had feared more than once that the 'frolicking' rogues had left him behind.

"Only elves frolic, you tin waste basket," Hawke had retorted before melting into the forest behind a chuckling Elswyth. As dusk was falling they reached the Minanter River, quickly picking their way across it before settling down for the night. Hawke sat first watch while the rest of the group bedded down after their evening meal.

There was so much to consider. Without a doubt he knew he was gaining more than a passing attraction to the tiny Warden elf. She was an incredible woman with a will of iron, nerves of steel, and a challenging attitude. Buried deep beneath however beat a soft, gentle, scarred heart. He cursed the king who had damaged it so. Given the opportunity to have her he knew _he_ would never let such a treasure go. She was wholly unique and extremely attractive to boot.

A soft sound drew his attention to where she sat, her head bowed in sleep, leaning up against a tree as was customary for her, once again caught up in a nightmare as she was every night. Some nights seemed worse than others, but always he would wonder what plagued her nightly hours so. Though shrouded by shadows cast through her thick hair he could still see the pained expression on her downturned face. Truly in the throes of sleep was one of the only times those expressions surfaced unguarded.

The insights he'd gained from listening to her stories and her 'private' chats with Merrill - yes he was a horrible person for eavesdropping - had given him a much better picture of who the Dalish Warden ranger was. Sudden movement brought him out of his musings as her head snapped back, banging against the tree and her legs stiffened, locking completely straight, a soft yelp escaping her. In a heartbeat he was by her side, unsure what to do as she started quivering.

"El," he called softly. When she didn't respond he cupped her face, running a calloused thumb across the soft skin of her cheek. "El, wake up," he whispered more forcefully. As though in a panic her eyes shot open and the edge of a blade tickled the stubbly hair on his neck. "

"El, it's ok, it's just me," he didn't move, letting her adjust to wakefulness, his hand still on her face. Sweat beaded her brow and comprehension penetrated her eyes for a split second before they widened again.

"Darkspawn!" Reven and Elswyth were already on their feet as Broderick and Zevran shook sleep away and armed themselves. Moments later the throaty growl of one of the foul creatures heralded their arrival and the group sprang into action, dodging away from the black mists to avoid their sneak attacks. The grinning features of a Hurlock rose above her before being blown backward by the force of her point blank shot, sending him head over feet. It was a small group of darkspawn so they dispatched them quickly. As the last one gurgled and fell over, Elswyth shakily relaxed her combat stance.

"Burn the bodies. Torch the ground they erupted from and move the camp. I don't detect any more but…" she wavered just enough for Hawke to catch it. "I'll be back… I need to…" her voice trailed off and she looked around helplessly before turning around and melting into the darkness in the direction of the river.

Hawke immediately took off after her, determined to get answers. Broderick looked at Zevran in confusion, but the assassin just shrugged and moved to do as she had asked. Having traveled with her long enough, he knew about her nightmares and what caused them. No need to make things worse by complicating matters.

Elswyth collapsed to her knees by the water, her bow and quiver clattering to the ground before plunging her hands into the icy river, heedless of her bowyer's glove and gauntlets. Dimly she registered the sound of Hawke, his tread easily recognizable to her now, approaching as she splashed water on her face, trying to rid herself of the images burned behind her eyelids. Large, sickly yellow elven eyes, achingly familiar stared back at her conscious. Quietly he sat beside her and regarded her carefully.

"Something you wanna tell me?" he wasn't sure she was going to respond, she didn't move for a very long time.

"I'm a Warden, I can't-"

"Bullshit. Anders tried pulling that crap on me too. Only thing is he didn't suffer from terrifying nightmares _every single night_," she looked away. "Try again." He wasn't leaving her alone until she told him.

"Wardens are only supposed to dream during two times: during a Blight and their Calling," she refused to look at him.

"Ok, that one you're going to have to explain. I don't know what a 'Calling' is."

"It's when the Warden knows their time is up," her voice was so quiet. "When the dreams begin again then it's time to descend to the deeproads for their last battle. Only mine never stopped. Ten years I've been plagued by them, every night. At first they were visions of the archdemon, shrieking that 'song' all the darkspawn refer to. Post-Blight however they morphed into this never ending struggle against the taint and foulness. Some nights aren't as traumatic as others…" she paused, wiping the dripping water from her face. "Tonight I saw Tamlen again," she frowned, closing her eyes, but that only brought the image of his handsome face, twisted and blackened into sharper relief. "Why won't they just return to the deeproads like they're supposed to? I killed Urthemiel. I'd know if they'd found the next one and it's not possible so soon…" Hawke looked at her oddly.

"Urthemiel?"

"The archdemon. The old god. They call to the darkspawn to free them from their bonds in the earth. When they find one it becomes an archdemon and begins the Blight," she laughed humorlessly. "The blood of an old god beats in my veins. Andoral, archdemon of the fourth Blight," she stood, turning her back to his shocked expression. "The closest guarded secret of the Grey Wardens. _That's_ what the Joining is. _That's_ how I was 'saved' from the darkspawn plague. _That's_ why a Warden can never leave. We all will follow the Calling eventually because in time… our bodies succumb to the taint," she looked out over the water and wrapped her arms around herself as though she were cold.

"Now, thanks to Larius," she glanced over her shoulder at him pointedly, "I fear that we don't actually die. Instead we live on as abominations like Larius and Utha. That we actually become darkspawn… _become_ one of them," she shivered, shutting her eyes. "I never wanted any of this, trapped in a fate bearing down on me, knowing full well it's coming, and nothing I can do will stop it or change it. Sometimes I feel in retrospect I should have just died and not gone through with the Joining…" Reven appeared at her side and forced her gently to turn and face him.

"Never say that. Don't even think that," she refused to look at him still. "Look, you've heard enough about duty and how many lives you've saved. I won't repeat any of that to you, but I will say this… I'm so glad I met you," something in his voice made her hazard a glance up at him, slightly confused. He nodded down at her. "Yep, I'm gonna be selfish and say I think you're an amazing person and I'm glad you tripped over me. Don't care what anyone else thinks, you've made _my_ life happier and more fun," darkly she glanced away and he sighed heavily.

"El," he ran a hand through his unruly hair uncomfortably, only succeeding in pulling more tendrils free from his braids, "I know… all this impending death and doom looming over you is… repressive and hard to bear… and frankly if it were me I'd probably be bawling my eyes out in a corner," Elswyth couldn't help snorting at the image, a small smile breaking her features despite the situation. "But… just tell me... anything… and I'll try to help," his expression was so serious and she blinked up at him a few times, wondering where the gruff, sarcastic Hawke went and who this nice guy was. Abruptly he poked the bridge of her nose and she started, blinking rapidly. "From your expression I think I broke you," oh, there he was.

"I-… you just…" she paused, considering him in frustration as he grinned.

"I know, I'm a great guy, huh?" he asked, putting a hand on each hip in a heroic pose. Briefly she rubbed her face with her palm and raised a brow at him. Suddenly he was really close and he ran his thumb down the bridge of her nose before she could react. "I know you think so, I'll get you to admit it eventually," he grinned wider as she jerked back and almost lost her balance. Only his quick hand on her bare waist kept her from falling over and she sputtered at him, blushing madly.

"Well, I'm doing well! I've made you clumsy and speechless!" she batted his hand away as he laughed.

"You're gonna end up in the river in a second if you keep that up!" she threatened, willing her flaming cheeks to cool down. His arm snaked around her waist and dragged her against him.

"Only if you're in there with me and there's significantly less clothing involved," his forehead pressed against hers and she froze as her vision was filled with his stunning blue eyes. Why wasn't she pushing him away? Why did the pit of her stomach suddenly feel so warm?

"Unhand her, you perverted old man!" a loud, indignant voice made them both jump, their heads snapped back in the direction of camp to see Broderick standing there with a wickedly grinning Zevran in tow.

"Rogue stuff, you wouldn't understand," Reven rolled his eyes, very perturbed by the interruption, sighing quietly as Elswyth extracted herself from his grasp and he let her go reluctantly. For her part she was wondering when she'd managed to grab onto a whole fistful of his tunic.

"Cur, if you've so much as touched her-"

"I'm fine, Broderick," she approached him and forced him to lower the sword he was pointing at Reven.

"He should not have forced himself on you while you were distraught," he hissed only loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh, I've done plenty of 'rogue' things in positions such as that," Zevran quipped. "Most of them with quite a bit less armor… and not all with women," he waggled his brows at Broderick who made a very disturbed face. "Though I would say they were less 'rogue' and more 'assassin' activities," he crossed his arms and grinned widely. "Ah, truly many a heart has been left broken and slain in my wake," Broderick could only continue to stare aghast at the now dreamy expression on the Antivan's face.

"Come on, Broderick. Let's go make sure the camp is secure for the night," she dragged the still grimacing and horror stricken templar away.

Once they were alone, Zevran's expression grew deadly serious.

"She is master of her own will and she is strong, and thus it is not my place to tell her what she can and cannot do. But I swear to you and to her, if you hurt her, no one will find your remains," the former Antivan Crow leveled Hawke with an expression he had never seen him use before and he didn't doubt the elf's words for a moment.

"So, wait! Has he been flirting with me this whole time?" Broderick couldn't help exclaiming, much to her amusement.

"No, you're not his type. The pious amuse him, but he'd have made a move on you by now if he were interested," she gave him a lopsided grin over her shoulder, still dragging him by his sleeve. A gentle hand on her wrist stopped her at the edge of the firelight and she looked back to see him considering her, something deep in the depths of his warm brown eyes.

"Are you sure he did nothing to harm your honor, my lady?" the intensity of his gaze and the fact that she was still flustered from her proximity to Hawke caused her to fuzzily note that he wasn't wearing his plate, just a loose fitting, unlaced cotton shirt and breeches, all of which showed off the muscular frame of a man accustomed to heavy armor and melee combat. Her appraisal was not lost on him and he took a cautious step forward. Quickly she shook herself and let go of his sleeve.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine, and you can call me Elswyth, none of this 'my lady' stuff, it makes me uncomfortable," his gentle, calloused hand, still on her wrist kept her from moving away and she looked at him curiously albeit apprehensively.

"Your life has been so fraught with suffering and sorrow. If you need _anything_ do not hesitate to ask," talk about déjà vu, wasn't Reven just saying almost those exact words only moments ago? The memory brought warmth and a new round of butterflies to her stomach. Tenderly he took her tiny hand between his large ones, stepping a little closer. Why was this happening to her? Two in one night?

"Broderick, I… thank you, but-" Hawke cleared his throat gruffly from a short distance away and Elswyth snatched her hand back, blushing furiously.

"Look who's being inappropriate now?" Reven had a decidedly annoyed expression on his face as he strolled by them.

"Do not compare me to _you_, serah," Zevran handed Elswyth her bow and quiver, an apologetic expression on his face. She thanked him silently and before any of them knew it she had disappeared.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" neither man had ever heard Zevran growl like that before and they both stared at him, stunned. "I think she has had _enough_ and she doesn't need your pathetic pissing contest on top of it all to confuse her. She has lost everything she ever held dear. Do not make things worse by making her have to choose between the two of you."

The three men settled down for the night in uncomfortable silence. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning Elswyth returned and relieved Zevran from watch, mutely watching the camp while her little party slept.

* * *

><p>With the dawn came ominous clouds that began to dump torrential rains on them midway through the morning. The air had a forbidding nip to it as they continued their trek north, signaling the rapid approach of winter. By mid-afternoon Elswyth was scouting for a dry place to rest, the sniffles of her uncomplaining companions having not gone unnoticed. The group remained uncomfortably silent while they sojourned to the cave she'd discovered.<p>

Once they were situated inside she threw her cloak over her shoulders and soldiered back out into the downpour to find dry firewood. The silence was stifling as the three men sat, dripping in the quickly darkening alcove, awaiting her return. Her appearance in the mouth of the cave set Broderick and Hawke into a flutter of motion, both to break the oppressive atmosphere as well as to help her set up camp and prepare dinner.

The group stripped out of wet clothes and wrapped in blankets to let their gear dry. Despite Zevran's attempts to lighten the mood they all remained broody. Long into the evening Elswyth rose, wrapped tightly in her blanket and moved to the entrance to the cave, watching the rain. A presence by her side drew her attention, but she didn't look over.

"I'm sorry if I made things worse for you," Reven's voice was so soft she could barely hear him even with her enhanced hearing. "If Broderick is what you…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence, not quite sure what had gotten into him. Slowly she shook her head.

"He's nice enough, but…" her head turned away, her wet hair hung in clumps around her face, revealing small windows of skin riddled with dark veins exposed. "Right now I think he's experiencing hero worship that he's misinterpreting," Reven looked at her, wishing he knew what she was thinking. "I appreciate both of your friendship and companionship greatly. It has been too long since I traveled a road with friends of a like mind," she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "And so long as you and Broderick do not fight… no. You didn't make things worse for me." It took a lot of effort not to go do a victorious fist pump in the templar's face. Abruptly she glanced warily at him. "Don't go reading too much into that."

"Oh, much, much, _much_ too late for that, my little Lady Grey," he gave her a huge grin as she sighed and left her to her thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I am a terrible person, but my muse apparently died the past few months. I have no idea what happened. I blame how depressed I was over the Mass Effect 3 ending... until the EC came out. Anyways, I apologize for my hiatus and that this chapter isn't longer. I am already working on another chapter and I actually now have an idea what direction I want this story to head into. So this is good... before it was just meandering so comes as no surprise that I lost steam. Don't forget to review and tell me what you did and didn't like!

* * *

><p>The next few days they traveled quickly, a chill wind licking their heels. Gazing at the sky as the group caught up to her fast pace Elswyth knew it wouldn't be long before the skies opened and dropped a blanket of white on them. Long, fur-lined cloaks were donned just hours before the first flakes began to dance from the clouds. Pressured by the weather, they increased their pace, trying to beat the deepening snow, skirting Morotorus and heading straight north, avoiding Antivan territory and the Drylands.<p>

The snow abated only slightly as they finally reached the edge of Arlathan Forest, but travel was rapidly slowing as the white drifts rose higher. Majestic, ancient trees towered over them as they trudged on. Finding campsites was becoming difficult until the canopy began to close over them and block some of the heavier snow. Arlathan forest stretched out for miles before them, dense woods filled with monstrous seemingly eternal trees stood testament to the age of their surroundings. Though the undergrowth would have proven to be very thick had there been no snow, the trees sported few branches within arm's reach, stretching far above them and into the thick canopy to reach the sun. Elswyth became disheartened the further they traveled as nothing but forest greeted them. There appeared to be no signs that any sort of civilization had even existed in the grandiose wood. Just as they reached the heart of the forest and Elswyth began to lose hope of finding anything remaining at all was when she finally spotted something through the trees.

With the speed of an arrow fired from her bow she took off, not even hearing the shouted queries of her companions. Light footed she hardly left a trace in the snow and they tried hopelessly to keep up with the dashing elf. Reven surged ahead of Broderick and Zevran, determined to at least keep her in sight. Up ahead he spotted the hem of her cloak as she slipped into a barely visible crevasse. Steam puffed about his head and his breaths came in pants as he finally caught up to where he had last spotted her, realizing he was standing on the steps of an ancient, snow covered elven ruin, cleverly built into a tree that sat crooked upon a hill.

From the outer appearance, the tree's roots grew at an angle and the great wooden trunk provided the entry way. The small opening proved difficult to fit through, but it appeared the door was stuck and would not open further. Thankfully his gear was now soft and pliable and he shimmied through, finding himself in what looked like an elegantly decorated though crumbling foyer. Movement to his right caught his attention and he spotted Elswyth in the remnants of what appeared to be a study.

"Books?" his voice was quiet, as though not to disturb anything. She shook her head sadly.

"Too degraded," she ran her hand over the leather binding with a whisper-like touch, watching as it turned to powder almost as though to punctuate the truth of her words. "The magic preserving them has faded, probably centuries ago," she gazed around sadly. "It doesn't look like there's much left here except the architecture," mold and moss grew over practically every surface, obscuring much of what was even left. Reven followed her, glancing around curiously as she moved room to room, her fur-lined cloak billowing softly behind her. The building ended abruptly in stone, as though the very earth itself had risen up to swallow the structure.

"The tales weren't kidding then when they said the Tevinters sank the city of Arlathan. That would explain the strange base of the tree. It almost looked like the ground had started swallowing the building whole," Hawke said in wonder and horror, timidly touching the spot where the wood of the wall seemed to melt into the rock.

"The Imperium was very thorough," her voice was clipped, filled both sorrow and anger.

"You never know. This house remained. There may be more still intact," Elswyth hesitantly acquiesced his assessment, knowing he was just trying to be helpful. As they approached the entrance she heard Zevran and Broderick discussing the fact that even without his plate the big man probably still wouldn't fit through the narrow doorway. It surprised her that Reven had, though watching him slither out and back into the light she realized it was because he was a rogue and _very_ flexible. Now that just brought all sorts of inappropriate thoughts to her head that she shoved away for later. Easily she slipped out behind him.

The rest of the day revealed no more intact buildings, but they found many partial ruins pushing out from the earth, blanketed by snow. The _graveyard_ of Arlathan was eerily quiet, and they found a patch of ground away from the ruins to make camp.

With a promise to return quickly, Elswyth slipped away into the silence of the snow to hunt for their dinner. Though she had only left for a little while, she returned with kill in hand to find an argument had broken out.

"How could you have even _thought_ that made sense?" Broderick's raised voice carried over the snow, shattering the stillness.

"I don't have to answer to you!" Hawke shot back.

"Your actions resulted in the deaths of almost the whole Kirkwall chantry!"

"_I_ didn't do that! I _killed_ the mage that did that!" Elswyth burst onto the scene, threw down her kill, bow, and quiver and immediately made a beeline for the two men in each other's faces. Zevran stood helplessly to one side, desperately trying to placate the two arguing men.

"Stop it you two!" they practically ignored her; it looked like it was going to come to blows in a moment. "Calm down!" she shoved herself between the two of them and lost her balance when Reven abruptly distanced himself, her back struck Broderick's chest and forced him off kilter. A startled shout from behind accompanied by the sound of ground crumbling alerted her that something was wrong, but everything happened so fast. Already off balance, the weight of Broderick's heavy hand on her shoulder pitched her backward and she felt herself falling much further than the ground should have permitted, Reven's shocked face rapidly became much smaller as he seemed to fall up and away from her. A sharp pain lanced through her head and everything went black.

An eternity later soft sounds and a gritty feeling penetrated her world of void, the fuzziness of her mind refused to clear and she couldn't quite remember why she felt like a mage had dropped a rock on her. It took quite a few moments for Elswyth to realize the muffled groaning sound was coming from her. Opening her eyes she was met with... nothing. Panic rose in her throat as she blinked several times, was she blind? Refusing to move yet she continued to blink and breathed deeply. After a few moments of dedicated study she realized nothing was wrong with her eyes, it was just pitch black. A grimace crossed her face from the ringing in her sensitive ears and she turned her head with a pained groan, feeling dirt and rubble cascade from on top of her. A soft answering groan from underneath her ear told her she wasn't lying on the ground.

Groggily she lifted her head, blinking several times, trying to force her eyes to see in the inky blackness. A strong, muscular arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling when she almost collapsed again, dizziness overtaking her, vertigo almost making her lose what was left of breakfast.

"El-Elswyth?" came Broderick's deep, hesitant voice and he coughed raspilly, the dust catching in his throat causing the surface she lay on to heave, only succeeding in making her more dizzy. Despite the obvious inability to help anything at all she squeezed her eyes shut and willed everything to stop spinning, her ear pressed firmly against his chest plate. A pained groan was the only response he gained from her. Slowly he sat up, forcing the little woman on his chest to do so too, gripping her bicep as she swayed against him, a thick layer of dirt and rock slid off them.

"Are you ok?" he asked quietly into the impenetrable blackness, wishing he could see.

"I'm… really dizzy… and I can't get my bearings... the whole world feels like it's tilting..." her voice sounded muted, as though they were in a low cave. Careful not to touch anything… uncomfortable, he found her shoulders with his hands and walked them up her neck to her head. The sheer amount of sticky fluid coating her face told him she'd injured her head badly, more than likely she was suffering from a concussion. In the dark, however there was no way to determine quite where it was in her mess of hair to do anything to fix it, not to mention neither of them had any medical poultices on them. Still holding onto her so as not to lose her in the dark he began feeling around with his free hand, tentatively removing his legs from the rubble they were buried under, afraid of causing a cave in. Finally free, he gingerly kneeled, already feeling swelling in his left ankle and ran his hands around above them. Blindly she clung to his side, standing shakily with him.

"The ceiling is low, but I can almost stand straight. You wouldn't happen to have a source of light, would you?" he felt her shake her head against his side.

"I was hoping you did."

"Your arrows produce fire, do you have magical ability?"

"No, _templar_," she teased despite the situation, "my bow is enchanted," he smirked at her attitude; he had wanted to get close to her, but not like this.

"Are you going to be ok?" out of habit he looked down at where her head would be, despite the fact that he couldn't see anything. The slight woman was literally clinging to him, which did not seem like her.

"I'm really dizzy… if I let go of you I'll fall over," he chuckled again even though it wasn't really funny.

"Well, as bad as this sounds, that is fortuitous because I don't think I can put my full weight on my foot. It may very well be broken."

"Not that we know if there's anywhere to go yet," she paused a moment. "When Alistair would cast cleansing aura it used to make this white pulse. Think you can try it?" she questioned and he nodded in the darkness and began chanting. A soft, barely visible white wave pulsed out of him, very briefly illuminating the area. There was a collapsed wall of rubble behind them and a long stone hallway before them.

"Ok, so do we wait? Or try moving forward?" she looked up at him, where his face would be in the darkness.

"And trust Hawke to find us?" the disdain in his voice was clear and she laughed.

"You should give him a chance," she poked his ribs, "you two bicker like children."

"He started it," he grumbled and she chuckled again.

Painfully slowly they moved forward, Elswyth clung to him and he gently applied as little weight to her as possible, limping along as best he could. Putting out a guiding hand to the wall, Elswyth helped keep the tipsy duo upright as they moved at a crawling pace, when his energy would replenish he would pulse gently, showing them any diversions or blocked paths. Traversing the deeproads wasn't nearly as bad as this. At least there they had torches and regular magic users to light the way. This thick blackness was oppressive and eerie. It was entirely silent save their shuffling and breathing. It wasn't even high enough to echo, everything had a muffled and muted taint to it. After what felt like hours of moving painstakingly along Broderick called them to a halt.

"I'm sorry, I need to stop a moment, the pain is getting worse and it's becoming more difficult to put weight on it. I'm positive it's broken now," slowly and gently they sat on the hard floor. Elswyth didn't complain, her head was pounding and the dizziness was overwhelming. Broderick leaned up against the cold stone wall, covered in a chilled sweat and Elswyth leaned back against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. In the darkness he looked down at her in concern.

"I'm…" she breathed deeply, "really off balance, but I detect a stream of fresh air. There must be an opening somewhere nearby," she sighed gently, feeling very lightheaded.

"Elswyth, I know this is probably not the time for this, but…" he felt her shift against him and got the impression she was tilting her head toward him. "Are you and Hawke…" her soft sigh stopped him from attempting to form the awkward question.

"I am… not sure how I feel about him. He has experienced much of the same hardships I have and he understands me like no one else I've met but…" she paused, uncomfortable. "Firstly I'm not sure I'm ready to trust just yet and secondly I'm a Grey Warden. Any relationships I have are going to be short lived and end badly. So it would be a pointless endeavor," she crossed her arms, becoming irritated.

"You are an extraordinary woman. It would not be pointless."

"Be that as it may, I have no intentions on the matter. How is your foot? Do you think you can continue?" Despite her insistence otherwise he knew it would not be long before she was head over heels for Hawke. If she wasn't already. Her denials made that apparent.

"Still broken, but I'll manage. And your head?"

"I still feel as though the world is tipping and tilting, but sitting here won't fix it," with a smile he struggled to his feet using the wall as support and helped her up, pulsing lightly to illuminate their path before soldiering on with her clinging to his side.

Zevran and Reven straightened from examining the cave in for the hundredth time.

"It appears to have fully collapsed. I have no idea how deep this goes," Zevran shook his head. Without a shovel they weren't getting anywhere in clearing the rubble from the sinkhole. The dirt around the erosion had collapsed inward and virtually filled it almost completely. The assassin was right, it could go down a long distance and they had no way of knowing.

"We can't just leave them down there. For all we know they're suffocating as we speak!" Reven repeated. Zevran shook his head.

"If they're in any kind of structure they should be fine. I doubt it would have collapsed like that if there weren't a tunnel of sorts down there. We should redirect our efforts to finding another entryway," Zevran's monologue was interrupted by the sound of snow crunching and shuffling approaching their camp.

Reven's head snapped up to follow Zevran's line of sight to see Broderick and Elswyth limping toward them, elation filling him at seeing them obviously ok and free of their submerged prison. Quickly his jubilation died when he took in their state and appearance. Broderick leaned heavily on the slight elf for support of an ankle so swollen that he'd had to remove his boot, carrying it in his free hand. Both of them were coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime as well as a substantial amount of blood. Elswyth, in addition seemed to be more than just support for the limping templar, she practically clung to his midsection as though her very life depended on it and she looked extremely off kilter, her steps were staggered and uneven. The blood caked across her forehead and matted to her hair told him the reason why, those large elven eyes were slitted as if the very dim light around them pained her. Zevran was immediately by her side.

"No, help Broderick, his ankle is broken," the assassin went to let go of her, but when she almost toppled over he grabbed for her again, only to find Hawke had scooped her up right off her feet instead.

"I can walk, you oaf! Help Broderick!" Hawke smirked and set her down by the fire before assisting Zevran with the burly templar, settling him down across from Elswyth.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Broderick protested when Hawke began to examine his ankle. Reven glanced up at him in annoyance.

"You want it set and healed, right? Elswyth's in no condition and Zevran..." he glanced over at the assassin who shrugged.

"I'm better at _breaking_ than fixing," Zevran shrugged with a mischievous grin and Hawke gave Broderick a pointed look.

"Fine," the templar sat back while Reven gently exposed his swollen and dark bruised ankle. Quickly he snatched up medical supplies and set to work.

"Ok," the tenderness he employed in exploring the swollen flesh and broken bones astounded Broderick. It was not something he would have expected from the rogue. "I'm going to need to shift the bone to set it, ready?" It shocked him that the rogue was speaking to him for once with no sarcasm or cynicism and he nodded mutely, bracing himself. Hawke quickly but gently reset the bone, impressed that Broderick made no sound, immediately applying liberal amounts of poultice and splint it, wrapping it firmly above and below the break. "I'll check it tonight and re-apply more poultices if needed," Broderick stopped him as he went to stand, seeing Zevran helping Elswyth.

"Why..." the templar dropped his voice to a whisper, "are you-" Hawke sighed and ran his hand through his hair, resuming a crouched position in front of the burly man.

"It... upsets her when we fight. This wouldn't have even have happened had we not been at one another's throats. I don't like causing her upset," he whispered back, idly scraping two rocks together while he spoke. Broderick looked at him oddly, his eyes flickering between the rocks and Reven's face and the rogue rolled his eyes. "Just wait," he said smugly.

"Fen'harel take you!" Elswyth suddenly exclaimed. "You're doing that on purpose!" Hawke grinned and winked at the templar.

"Then don't eavesdrop , you nosy elf," Hawke still grinned at the templar who hazarded a smile back. Broderick was still smiling as he watched Reven move over to where Zevran was cleaning away some of the blood caked on her face, grinning as she denied his accusation. It shocked him how much forethought and sensitivity the Champion exhibited on rare occasions like these. The two of them were arguing about her eavesdropping habits as he took over Zevran's task, cleaning the blood from her face tenderly before applying a poultice to the large gash that ran across her forehead and into her hairline as well as the smaller one on the back of her head. Broderick's smile softened as he watched Hawke then begin to work the knots and blood out of her long, thick locks, the elf falling silent after some argument, giving in to his ministrations.

A friendship between the two men now seemed a viable option as Broderick began to let go of Elswyth. It was a fight he couldn't win, so why cause strife over it and wish them well instead? As Hawke worked with her hair he was astounded at how quickly and easily it returned to being silky and smooth. When her head lolled back slightly he looked around, not seeing a good, dry place to set her up for the night. All the trees were still blanketed in snow and were a good distance from the camp. Supporting her so she wouldn't fall over he settled himself behind her and let her lean back against him, putting his pack behind him for support. Zevran and Broderick agreed to let him take first watch and settled down to sleep.

Reven considered things while the camp slept, the fire burning merrily. Broderick had come back from their little adventure a changed and more reserved man. Though he wasn't sure what had transpired between them, he knew Broderick was in the process of relinquishing his campaign for her. The tiny woman in question shifted against him, a soft sound escaping her as she curled into his warmth, the curtain of blue black silk that is her hair fell about her in a dark waterfall and he stroked it gently. When she stirred in the throes of another nightmare he cupped her cheek with his free hand, gently running his calloused thumb down the bridge of her nose. Slowly she relaxed, her body melting back against his, a soft sigh breathed from her and he couldn't stop the grin that settled across his features. Oh, she'd be _so_ irritated if she found out. Tenderly he continued caressing her nose, ensuring she slept soundly. Zevran awoke for his watch shift and Reven nodded to him before curling around her, setting his chin on her shoulder and fell asleep sitting up with her.

Immediately she knew something was different. For one thing she was much warmer than the weather _should_ have permitted, for a second thing there was a gentle, secure weight all around her. Opening her eyes she was met with the sight of two long, strong arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders. When she attempted to turn her head she found she couldn't turn far as Hawke's face was right there, his chin resting on her shoulder.

Despite her now rapidly fluttering heartbeat and flushed cheeks she studied the face inches from hers. His eyelashes were long for a man's, with a sweeping brow above them. The long, clearly Ferelden nose had obviously been broken, probably more than once, but it added to his rugged appearance. Slightly hollow cheeks were coated in a deep brown, scratchy layer of hair, leading to thin, well formed lips that were so often pulled up in a smirk... yea, like that... wait. Her eyes snapped to his to find them cracked open very slightly, looking sidelong at her with those striking true blue irises. A heavy flush settled onto her cheeks, but instead of making a sarcastic remark he simply turned his head sideways so he could look at her straight on, studying her in turn.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly he began to inch forward; her breath hitched in her throat and her heartbeat skyrocketed, but she didn't move or pull away. Finally his lips brushed hers and he almost smiled at her tiny gasp. After a moment his lips moved against hers, feeling her resistances breaking down, both their eyes finally sliding shut. In a delirious, heated fog she felt his hand buried in her hair at the base of her neck, eliciting a delicious shiver down her spine. Eagerly he nibbled her lip and dove in when she sighed, their tongues tangling, deepening the kiss.

"Do you think they know they have an audience?" Broderick's voice asked softly, followed by Zevran's deep throated chuckle. Their lips separated with a wet _pop _as both their heads shot up to see Broderick and Zevran seated across the dying embers of their fire, watching the couple in amusement.

"Oh, do not let us bother you, by all means, continue... this is long overdue in my opinion," Zevran grinned lewdly at the shocked faces of his two friends. Elswyth buried her face in the crook of Reven's neck to hide her heated, mortified features.

"Oook! You need to stop _that_ right now unless you want far more than just kissing happening here in a moment," Hawke shifted her between his legs awkwardly in an attempt to not press his rapidly growing erection against her.

"Aaand that's my cue to excuse myself," Broderick blurted out uncomfortably, rising lopsidedly and gathering a few toiletries, Zevran mimicking him with a chuckle, offering his shoulder to the burly templar for support as they headed off to the river.

The moment they were out of sight he snatched up her lips again, delighted when she responded in kind, leaning longingly into him. It was when her hip pressed against his _very_ apparent desire for her that she finally broke off the kiss.

"Reven, I-"

"I know, I know," he said softly against her moist, flushed lips, touching her cheek gently, his voice laced with frustration. "I won't press anything on you... but that won't stop me from wanting you," he gazed at her with desire filled brilliant blue eyes and she felt herself shiver, almost giving in right then. Tenderly he turned her head to see how her injuries were doing, giving them both a moment to regain control of themselves.

In her mind spun a whirlwind of confused thoughts. Never had she ever reacted to Alistair this way. Yes, he was wholly adorable and handsome and she _had_ desired him... but this breathlessness? Her thundering heartbeat, the dizziness she felt when Reven was close or would give her that brilliant smile? Never before had she felt so completely in tune with someone as she did with him, like they completed one another's thoughts, even if neither had spoken. To be honest she hadn't felt a closeness with anyone like this since Tamlen.

"I wish I had met you sooner," her abrupt statement brought his gaze to hers, slight surprise swimming in the cool depths. "I-... I have no idea how much time I have left-" he shook his head, interrupting her.

"Don't think about it like that. It will come when it comes. Focus your thoughts on _living_... with me," he smiled roguishly, running the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers.

"Your fascination with my nose is quickly turning into an obsession," she teased him with mock indignation and he chuckled. "Did you have this fixation with Merrill's nose too?" he shook his head vigorously.

"Oh, no, no, no. She practically threw herself at me as it was. No way I'd encourage her like that!" he noted Elswyth's frown. "It was a brief thing when we first met and I turned her down gently. I think she fancied me because I was practically the only friend she had in Kirkwall," Elswyth nodded and looked up as the other two returned. Apologetically Hawke disentangled himself from Elswyth and checked Broderick's ankle, pleased immediately with his progress.

"Stay off it as much as possible for the day and you should be good to travel tomorrow," Hawke assessed and Broderick nodded gratefully.

"I will stay in camp then while he rests. Hawke, make sure to watch her for any dizziness as you both explore," Zevran watched Elswyth stand with a critical eye, looking for any sign of vertigo and Hawke nodded. Elswyth scowled at the two men, her irritation at their over-protectiveness amusing the three men present.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: wow... um, long hiatus. I'm sorry! I'm not even going to bother promising that I'll be posting regularly. But I AM working on this story again. Sorry again for how long this took!

* * *

><p>Day wore the shadows long as the sun finally began to set behind the exploring duo, the slivers of gold dancing through the dense tree cover made the snow glitter in a sunset palette deepened by the purple hues of the overhanging branches. Their less than revealing explorations eventually found them standing on the coast, looking out over the Boeric Ocean, the sound of the tide, complete with the crying of gulls lulled their senses even as the salty air lent a tang to their deep inhalations. Living in Kirkwall so long Hawke became accustomed to the sea, but Elswyth had barely ever seen such a vast, infinite horizon and it was all she could do to keep from losing herself in the beauty of the diamond glittering surface.<p>

The soft breeze ruffled her hair and pulled at her cloak, her eyes held a far off light as she drank in the scenery.

"Your thoughts?" he asked softly, drawing along beside her. For long, surf filled moments she remained silent.

"Morrigan once told me she wanted to see the ocean, walk in its waters," she sighed quietly. "I can't believe I'm saying this... but things were so much simpler when there was just the darkspawn to fight. Even with Loghain," she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I feel like a fugitive. Traveling the road now feels less honest than before. They looked to me to lead. Unjustly, so why do I still feel like a thief? Like I'm being selfish?" "she shook her head. "I never want to go back. I _definitely_ don't want to see _him_ again, but I can't help feeling guilty. As though I've abandoned them all," she hugged her arms around herself against the chill and he moved behind her and wrapped her in his cloak, pulling the small woman to him and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"They depended on you so heavily for so long that it became ingrained in you as your 'duty' when it never should have been placed on you to begin with. In a normal structure there should have been hierarchy and delegation. You should never have been shouldered with so much," his voice was quiet as they both stared out over the water.

"You are very lucky it's cold right now," the tone of his voice made her turn to look up at him. "Had it been warmer I would have scooped you up and jumped right off and into the water," he laughed at the wide eyed expression she gave him.

"Thank the Creators for winter!" she said in exasperation and he laughed.

The exodus from Arlathan was quiet and contemplative. Though only one of them was Dalish, the sheer idea that an entire civilization could be wiped out almost completely was a sobering and frightful thought. The companions had much on their minds as they trudged through the ice and snow. The Drylands provided a reprieve from the snow and cold during the day, but the snap-freeze nights still plagued them. By the time they reached the city outskirts they were all ready for a warm, dry room in an inn.

Antiva was like nothing Elswyth had ever seen. Beautiful marble buildings rose against the skyline like many glimmering ornaments in a crown. The stone masonry and craftsmanship could easily rival any dwarf's and she was sure many had indeed been contracted for the work. Long, sloping bridges dotted and spanned roads, battling for supremacy in the war of beauty with the buildings around. It was almost too much.

Scroll-work, guilded edges, lattice filled with magically sustained flowers, lanterns ablaze with warm light, intricate cobblestone patterns. It was as though a constant war of artists raged on every surface, creating a busy, enragement of beauty. Music of every demographic tumbled from gold spilling doors and windows, highlighting and piercing the twilight with a melodic cacophony of lights and sounds. A myriad of languages drifted to them on the chill night breeze as they made their way to a poorer part of town, cowls hiding their features as the gilding and rich facades gave way to a more sinister, run down underbelly of crime and decay that supported the lavish and embellished lives of the upper class. Where the paint peeled away to reveal the harsh reality and stark truths behind velvet curtains. Antiva was a city of assassins, thieves, and rogues. It was here they sought a room for the night.

Allowing Zevran to take the lead they followed into shadow, melting in easily save Broderick who wore a tenseness to his shoulders he just couldn't shake. The home of the Crows meant no one was searching the dark corners and cowls for faces. Away from the main streets citizens hustled along, heads down, eager to be off the streets and away. The group followed the assassin as he ducked into a rundown looking inn called the Gilded Dagger. Zevran chose it specifically because it was an establishment he almost never used when he was with the Crows nor did any of them use it, and it had a reputation for staying that way. Avoiding notice was a priority, this time it was Zevran who was in hiding. Hawke turned out to be the least conspicuous, so he paid cash up front for the room while the rest of them waited outside, then Reven opened the window and they scaled the wall to the second floor room.

"Fortunately," Zevran said as they settled into the warm room, the groups relief palpable, "in Antiva only her citizens with something to hide or something to find check the corners. It is a city where remaining anonymous is a game. When you are known, you become a target. The faceless have the power here."

"We should avoid any contacts you have and leave the city when we can. Turning you in, I'm sure, would be exceedingly profitable," Elswyth responded and he nodded sagely.

"The lower market is where we will resupply then. Gold up front and no names. Most of them won't deal openly with the organizations, they are known for loyalty only to coin, and thus are mostly neutral," they all agreed and though they bedded down, weapons were kept close at hand.

Morning found them all edgy, though rested. As dawn broke a pale, cold light over the streets they dropped from their window silently, winding through the back alleys toward the lower markets. Zevran and Elswyth made themselves look like elven slaves, their cowls pulled close while Reven and Broderick purchased their supplies, the templar's cloak was carefully and completely pulled over to cover his emblazoned chest plate.

"This was a bad idea. I can feel it. Something is going to go wrong," Elswyth whispered to the assassin by her side as she glanced around nervously, letting her eyes dart, not moving her head. Zevran faced the other direction, watching similarly.

"Normally I would be my usual cocky self and say you were overreacting... but I feel it too..." they waited, muscles tensed until the humans returned with their supplies and breakfast. They moved away from the hushed bustle of the market, finding a secluded location to spread their supplies to their packs and eat. They partook of their meal in an uneasy silence.

Zevran's head came up abruptly and was instantly on his feet, daggers in hand before the group knew there was a threat. They rose to their feet as figures melted out of the shadows all around them. Tsking drew their attention to one man who stepped forward. His neatly styled hair, relaxed posture, and well kept gear marked him as the leader.

"Did you really think you could waltz into Antiva and _not_ have _everyone_ recognize you, Zevran?" the elf smirked back at the drawling man.

"Maybe it was all a ruse to draw you out," he grinned at the Crow.

"You and the Hero of Ferelden will die here and I will reap the rew-" before anyone could blink a dagger lodged itself in his forehead. In stunned silence everyone stared at him as he stumbled and collapsed, clearly already dead.

"Shoulda done your research better. Champion of Kirkwall, at your service!"

Everything happened all at once. Everyone exploded into motion, Reven burst forward, sliding under a swinging sword on his knees to recover his dagger while Elswyth leapt over him and the sword, taking out his attacker's throat. Blood spattered the walls of the narrow alley while the companions fell into a defensive dance, covering one another while they maneuvered more into the open. They had to get out of the city. On the Crow's territory they were at a clear disadvantage, not to mention the potential for near immediate reinforcements.

Elswyth spun and parried the four daggers of her two attackers. Abruptly she rolled forward between them, her arms slashing out as she passed them, warm intestines filled the air with steam as they sloshed to the cobblestone, their owners screaming in horror an agony.

"Keep your backs to one another and watch the roofs," Zevran ground out as he narrowly dodged a slash to his neck, instead flipping his hands out and gashing his attacker's face, right across his eyes. Fluidly he pulled a pouch, opened it and blew the powder into his next assailants face. The man fell to the street screaming, clutching his melting features.

Their fight burst into the open street, sending citizens scattering with panicked screams.

"We're fighting on their turf, we need to get out of here soon," Broderick stated the obvious, crushing a rogue's face with his boot when he rushed at him, using his shield to field away the blows of another. Elswyth grit her teeth and struggled to hold back her two assailants.

"Hawke!" crossbow bolts flew out of nowhere, taking down a slew of attackers meaning to join the fight.

"Varric, what-?" Reven's eyes went wide and he almost missed parrying a blow meant to take out his groin. "Isabella." Elswyth's head snapped around at the void sound of Reven's voice and another familiar face, behind the pirate queen caught her eye.

"Alistair." They stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. The sting of a blade brought her back to the fight and she practically threw herself backward in the direction of her foe's swing to prevent the blade from sinking further into the soft flesh of her shoulder between her leathers, using the momentum to throw the larger man over her shoulder in a back summersault. It felt like the world had been dumped on its head.

"What in Andraste's name are _you_ guys doing here?!" Varric questioned.

"We're leaving. Now isn't the best time to talk about this," Hawke snapped. The three of them joined making their numbers seven and they demolished their opposition, taking pauses in attacks to move steadily to the city limits. Free of the city they broke off and made for the woods. Their wild pace did not abate, led by Zevran and Elswyth, even when the city fell far behind.

"Why didn't you tell me she was with the Champion?!" Alistair yelled at Varric while they ran.

"You didn't ask?" the dwarf shrugged back. Hawke glared daggers at the king. "I kind of thought you already knew that from the reward you put out... the one that included information on the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"No, I'd heard he knew _of_ her location, not that they were traveling _together_!"

"As if _our_ business is any of _yours_," Reven shot at him

"It _does_ happen to be my business actually," Alistair snapped back. Elswyth rounded on him, halting the sprinting group and forcing him to fall back a few steps.

"Because of some sick, misguided sense of ownership you feel over me?! Because you think somehow I _belong_ to you?! To Ferelden?!" she shoved an accusing finger in his face and he flinched back slightly. "I _belong_ to no one. I can go where I damn well please, _without_ telling _anyone!"_

"Elly, please, don't-"

"You are not allowed to call me that," she growled at him. "Now I'd rather not have the Crows catching up to us, so SILENCE until we are sufficiently safe!" she commanded them all and they obeyed. No one argues with the Commander of the Grey.

They tracked in silence all day and long into the evening. When it became difficult for the humans to see she finally called them to a halt and they set up camp. Both Reven and Varric noted it was unusual for Isabella to remain silent so long, even when soft conversation had begun again between less antagonized party members. As they set up camp and settled in an awkward presence also settled upon them as it became painfully obvious that Alistair and Elswyth and Reven and Isabella were staunchly ignoring one another. Broderick and Zevran set about striking up conversation with Varric to fill the silence which he was more than happy to comply with.

Finally Alistair moved closer to the tiny elf. "Elly, please, can we-"

"I _said_ do _not_ call me that! You are not to be familiar with me!" her eyes pierced him deeply when she finally glanced up at him.

"_Elswyth_, please, can we talk?" he pleaded.

"Talk." She spread her arms wide, albeit sarcastically. "I'm listening."

"Privately-"

"No. I'm sure everyone else is wondering why the _king_ of Ferelden is cavorting around Antiva."

"Why did you leave?" he blurted out abruptly, drinking in the sight of her like a man starved for too long, his heart in his eyes.

"I was done doing everyone's job. I was done being a trophy. I was done waiting for you to move on. I was done watching you ignore your wife," her eyes narrowed at him accusingly and his own eyes widened, reeling back as though struck. "Tell me I'm wrong, Alistair. Tell me that I'm not why you're here," the accusation hung in the air as his mouth opened and closed though no sound came out. Finally his mouth shut with an audible click and she shook her head.

"Alistair, you have to stop this. You didn't want an _elf_, you wanted a queen. You can't have both. Stop making us both suffer and for once pay attention to the woman you _chose_. She's waited patiently all this time and she's a far stronger woman than I. Be a man, Alistair. Take care of the woman you _chose_ and forget about me."

Alistair shook his head desperately. "Don't ask me to do that, please! Everything we went through together, everything we endured, all the time we spent together, does that mean nothing to you at all? I _can't_ forget you," his voice was thick with emotion.

"Yet when push came to shove, you didn't fight," her tone wasn't accusing, simply matter-of-fact.

"T-the day I let you go… was the biggest mistake of my life… please…" he seemed about to get on his knees and she shook her head firmly to try to regain control of his rising hysteria.

"You made your choice, Alistair. I let you go nine years ago. But you wouldn't let me move on. Your wife needs you. I don't need you and you don't need me… neither does Ferelden," she steeled her resolve as his eyes filled with moisture. She really _had_ loved him once. That she still cared for him was what made this so very hard. "What's past is past, Alistair. Just like I can't bring Isolde back. Some things you just can't fix. It's up to you to move on."

"I love you," his expression about broke her heart.

"No you don't. You _loved_ me. As I _loved_ you… nine years ago. You'll find once you stop clinging to those memories that you're not as attached to me as you _think_ you are."

Alistair looked down and wiped his eyes, a small smile breaking his features as though just then realizing something.

"That accent of yours always got me," he chuckled and she gave him a cautious smile. "All these years, you still haven't lost it," he smiled at her genuinely and was thrilled to see a tentative smile back. Neither of them noticed Isabella scoot closer to Reven across the fire.

"So, Reven, long time no see…" she leaned in close and Reven pointedly refused to look at her.

"What do you want?" he asked curtly.

"Um, just to talk to you? Why would I _want_ anything?" his question had set her back on her heels. Hawke _always_ forgave. It was a quality she had been counting on.

"Because you don't talk to people unless it benefits you in some way. And I have nothing to say to you," he continued to stare into the fire.

"Wow, touchy much," she groused, trying to regain her posture.

"Only when my closest friend betrays me," he stood, closing the conversation, and she watched, astounded as he made his way over to where Elswyth was seated, pointedly seating himself beside her.

"Hello, Zevran!" Varric said loudly, seizing the elf's hand and pumping it.

"Good to see you, Varric! Do we have any awkward drama we need to get out of the way?"

Varric shook his head. "No, I think we're ok, and Broderick!" the men shook hands. "We're good?"

"Indeed, my good man," the templar nodded with an impish grin. Of course the three men had been speaking the whole time.

"Good, then let's get dinner started, I'm starving!" despite the tension everyone around couldn't help smiling , at least a little at the obviousness of the men's antics.

Hawke moved a little closer to Elswyth while the men chatted amicably, starting dinner, pulling Alistair and Isabella into it.

"You ok?" he asked her quietly.

"Yea, I'm fine. That was easier than I thought it would be, though still somewhat traumatic. What about you?" she glanced at him and he shrugged.

"She's a chronic liar, a cheat, and a thief. I have nothing to say to her," he said quietly though was unable to hide the hurt and she gazed at him in concern.

"You've never spoken of her to me... did you want to talk about it?" his first reaction was going to be heavy denial, but as he glanced at her, her face was so open and full of concern for him. His heart melted.

"Maybe later," he patted her knee and she smiled at him, taking his larger hand between her own, both unaware of two sets of eyes watching with mixed feelings of loss and jealousy.

Alistair moved to sit beside Isabella as she picked at her food.

"Brooding is uncharacteristic of you. I take it yours went about as well as mine?"

"He wouldn't even talk to me," she shredded her meat with her dagger, not eating it.

"Sounds like we both screwed up on the best thing we ever had," Alistair smiled ruefully.

"Not the _best_ thing," her voice trailed off, but he wasn't fooled.

"Then why are you _really_ here, helping me, and not out on the high seas, where you're happiest? Maybe because the seas couldn't take away or fill that hole anymore," his gentle voice did little to assuage her and she threw her dagger into the ground.

"Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about," the coarse anger in her voice only made him smile sadly.

"Yes I do."

She looked up at him and paused a moment before glumly going back to what she'd been doing.

The next morning found them breaking camp even as dawn's first rays shone through the branches. Alistair cautiously made his way to where Elswyth was packing her bedroll.

"I have no designs to reacquire your affection, but I wanted to know a few things if you'll permit it?" he asked timidly and she nodded not looking at him.

"What we had... if things had been different... had I made other choices, do you think our love would have survived?" he looked at her curiously as she considered the question, her hands pausing mid movement.

"What we had was... puppy love blown way out of proportion by circumstance. We needed that love, that support. The knowledge that the other person was there both in combat and emotionally. Had it survived past your coronation I don't think it would have lasted," she said sadly, shaking her head. "Outside of combat and the Grey Wardens we didn't really know each other," she glanced at him reluctantly as she finished packing her things and he nodded with a sad sigh. After a few moments he took a deep, cleansing breath, seeming to come to a resigned decision.

"You're probably right," his expression made her feel as though she'd kicked a puppy, but she held strong. "It's just that... when I lost you, I realized exactly what I'd lost. I couldn't bear it. I had lost my best friend and my first and only love. Those first few weeks were hell for me. I wanted so badly to just throw myself at your feet and beg to fix things, but you had become so unapproachable. I knew I'd lost you and it just about killed me," she looked away and shrugged weakly.

"I felt betrayed, but I wasn't about to let it trap me. That is... I hadn't planned on it until you sabotaged me," though playful her voice held an accusatory hint and he shrugged sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. I know it was wrong, but I wanted to be sure you were safe and I wanted you close," he glanced at her apologetically.

"You _do_ realize what your little reward for bringing me back did, right?" she asked him accusingly and he froze. "We were attacked by bounty hunters who were going to stuff me in a sack!" Alistair's eyes bulged slightly. "They were going to kill Zevran and Broderick, then drop me on your doorstep," she crossed her arms and raised her dreaded eyebrow. Alistair raised his hands defensively.

"I didn't think-"

"No, obviously you didn't!" he flinched with a sheepish grin and she couldn't help smiling back. "Creators! You're insufferable!"

"Yea, I know," he grinned.

On the other side of camp Varric practically shoved Isabella in Hawke's direction.

"Oh, hello, Hawke..." Isabella said awkwardly, gripping her hands behind her back, allowing her impressive bust to be on display. He didn't even bat an eye or respond, still packing his bag. "Reven," she sighed, relaxing her shoulders, "please..."

"Please _what_?" he asked curtly. "You ran off when I-" he stopped himself, "when I could have used your help the most."

"I-I know, but I-" she hesitated, "damnit, you know I'm bad at emotional stuff. When I left I... I couldn't stop thinking about you..."

"And that's why you left_ twice?_" he looked at her dispassionately.

"I... I was scared," she admitted and he shrugged as though it didn't matter. "Damnit, Hawke, I'm trying..."

"Trying what, Isabella? Even if we got back together how could I trust you? I'd always be expecting you to leave. You need to figure yourself out," his expression finally softened as he looked at her. "It was partially my fault. You weren't ready for something serious and I tried forcing it on you," he shook his head as she looked away.

"So... is that door closed permanently?" she asked so uncharacteristically timidly and his heart about broke all over again.

"Probably," his eyes were drawn across the camp to where Elswyth still talked quietly with Alistair, avoiding looking at Isabella or his resolve would crumble, the direction his eyes were cast in was not lost on the pirate. "You never know... but right now... yes. And if things go how I wish... then yes, permanently," he heard her hiccup softly and take a deep breath, still he refused to look toward her.

"You and Elswyth?" she tried hard to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"Maybe," he nodded, "we'll see. She's not exactly ready for something serious either," they sat in silence for a few moments.

"You need to tap that at least," she was back to being herself, "cuz she is a hot little thing, I ought to know... I already tried years ago," her grin was still tinged with sadness when he looked at her incredulously, a curious smile on his face.

"Wait what?" the pitch his voice took actually made her chuckle.

"Yup, I met her years ago, during the blight, I taught her the ways of the duelist," her eyes alighted on the slim figure of the elf. "I was so invigorated by our training session that I invited her back to my room, I invited Alistair too, but neither of them were interested. She's a clever little thing, very fast too," she grinned up at Hawke.

"You taught her how to duel, but you wouldn't teach me?" he feigned hurt and she grinned.

"Hey, us girls have to watch out for each other, besides you don't need it. She was quick but her melee skills needed some tender loving care," her eyes scoured the young woman's figure.

"Oh, so I have you to thank for that," he grinned and crossed his arms at her curious look. "I had the pleasure of sparring against her. I thought some of her moves looked familiar," his grin widened.

"Oh, how I would have loved to have seen that," her smile was genuine despite the heaviness of her heart.

With camp fully broken down the companions finally turned as a group to face one another.

"Are you headed back to Ferelden?" Elswyth asked.

"No," Alistair shook his head, "you were actually only partly right. I was out here looking for you, but I also have... business in Antiva. Isabella and Varric were helping me," the duo nodded their affirmation. "Did you want to join us? It would be like old times..." he gave her a pleading look.

She shook her head. "No, it will never be like before," his face fell. "Loghain's dead and there're no blight hordes about," she teased to cover the harshness of her words and he brightened. "Besides, we have our own road to travel... plus Zevran, Reven, and I probably would make your work harder... Antiva isn't exactly friendly to us right now," she smiled at his grin.

"Then... will you at least stop by Ferelden... as a visitor... to say hello?" he asked quietly, taking her hand and she smiled softly, her shoulders sagging a bit. The man was too adorable for his own good.

"Maybe... Ferelden was a prison, give me time away first," she could feel Hawke's eyes boring into them as Alistair smiled down at her. "But you," she said forcefully though gently, "need to go home to your queen as soon as possible and take care of your country," he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes... once this Antivan business is over with," he jerked his thumb behind him.

"Mk," she gave him a tentative hug before stepping back and they all bid each other farewell.

"By the way..." Varric paused as they all turned to go. "There was a Chantry Seeker that wanted to know everything about you, Hawke," the rogue raised his eyebrow at his dwarf friend. "And I overheard her speaking to that Lelianna woman about how they were looking for both of you," he glanced up at Elswyth.

"Me?" she asked, both eyebrows shot up and Varric nodded.

"I don't know why, but I thought I should mention it," he waved and his group departed, disappearing around the bend.

"Odd..." Hawke said, glancing at Elswyth who wore a frown.

"Not so odd if it's Lelianna. With what happened in Kirkwall and my ties to the darkspawn... it can't be random that she's looking for both of us," her frown deepened.

"Something's bothering you," Reven stated.

"I-" she paused, her head turning to stare with a concentrated expression in the direction the other group had disappeared. "I-... need to think on it more... but yes," he stared at her quizzically, but no more information was forthcoming so he just shrugged and fell into step as the group began to move once more, their pace more sedate as no one had broached the subject of their direction with the broody elf.

Their general direction turned south and took on a meandering tone as they traveled in relatively companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. With dusk's curtain dropping night over them the group finally stopped and made camp. Around the glow of the campfire it became patently obvious to them all that the wheels were furiously turning in the elf's head.

"Elswyth, will you explain _now_ what has you so absorbed?" Hawke asked abruptly and she glanced at him with a concentrated expression, as though realizing for the first time that there were other people there.

"The darkspawn. More specifically, the Architect. I need to find Nathaniel... why didn't he talk to me about this...?" she faded off again, her large eyes darting around as thoughts spun in her head.

"Hello," Hawke snapped his fingers in front of her. "Coherent sentences, please. For those of us _not_ in your head," her brow dropped in a scowl of concentration as she focused on his face again.

"Some darkspawn have intelligence. I have bits and pieces of things which I'm not trying to fit together. During my time at Vigil Keep, after I defeated the broodmother, I had tried looking into the archives to see if there was any further mention of him... the Architect... and I found _one. _A brief description of Maric and the Wardens traveling to the deep roads, then one appearance at the mage tower where he killed all the Wardens traveling to the deep roads save two and Maric then disappeared... until ten years ago. I need to find out what happened. Why did they go to the deep roads? Was it to find this creature? Or did they disrupt him on accident? Why was Maric involved and who were the two that survived? And what is Nathaniel looking for?" abruptly she stood and began to pace.

"The Architect mentioned something about Wardens and our blood being the cure to blights... he had me unconscious as his prisoner... did he take my blood? If so, what's he doing with it?" the group watched her pace and talk to herself with jaws agape. "I have to go back to Ferelden. I _need_ to find accounts of all this. They have to be somewhere. If not in the Warden archives then perhaps at the palace... maybe Maric kept a journal..."

"Whoa! Wait!" Reven held up his hands. "I thought you were _done_ with the Wardens _and_ Ferelden. Now you want to go back?!" Zevran and Broderick simply stared at her as though she'd gone mad.

"Something's wrong and it would be grossly negligent not to follow up on this when my gut is telling me I'm overlooking something important," she continued pacing. "The Wardens are moving, in small groups... I was too busy in Ferelden to bother noticing, but now as I think about it pieces are coming together and leaving holes that can't be ignored..." a thought struck Hawke and he watched her curiously through her pseudo-rant.

"During the qunari uprising, it was so chaotic I almost forgot all about this, but there was a small contingent of Wardens moving through Kirkwall. Orlesian accents. I asked them to help me, but their leader refused saying they were on Warden business that couldn't wait. Kirkwall burned all around us and whatever they were doing was more important and they wouldn't tell me what," he watched her face as she listened.

"That just confirms that I'm right. Something's happening and they're being very hush about it," she scowled at the darkness. "I need to find out what," almost as an afterthought she turned to her companions. "This is Warden business, if any of you wish to now-"

"Hold it right there," Zevran held up a hand. "I helped you stop a blight. I am not leaving you now."

"Quit asking us if we wanna leave," Broderick huffed at her. "I'll leave when I'm damn good and ready," the whole group looked at him, amused. "What?" he scowled at them. Hawke studied her and she looked back unflinchingly, knowing if he decided to leave now she couldn't blame him, however that would make this a one way trip for her...

Quietly he rose and crossed to her, speaking softly. "You'll have to try harder than going into the deep roads to get rid of me... but I'm worried for _you_... after everything you've told me, is this such a good idea? You were ready to give up the Wardens..."

She sighed and looked away. "I know... maybe this is why I was trapped in Ferelden... maybe it had nothing to do with Alistair. Perhaps I just can't turn down duty... no matter how hard I try," she looked up at him with sadness filled eyes. "And I don't want to ruin your chance at a normal life because I'm-" he snorted, interrupting her.

"I took on all of Kirkwall. I'm no Grey Warden, but duty calls me too."

"I could _make_ you a Grey Warden..." she jokingly threatened.

"Over my dead body. But I'll follow you to hell and back- even to the Black City itself if that's what it takes..."

"Wake me when the lovey dovey flirting and stuff is over," Elswyth and Hawke glanced over at Broderick who'd collapsed backward with his arms flung out as though in defeat, Zevran sitting beside him grinning cheekily.

"Don't forget I have the right of conscription, Broderick. I could very easily make _you_ a Warden too," she mock scowled at him.

Broderick shot upright with a horrified expression. "Maker forbid!" Elswyth crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Not that you're not amazing and an outstanding example of a Warden, but I'll be keeping my dreams taint and blood free, please," he grinned sheepishly and they all laughed.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Ugh, this is so much rougher than I wanted to post it, but I'm tired of picking at it. Don't forget to review, it helps to know where I should improve.

* * *

><p>With their route decided they traveled with all haste back in the direction they'd come, making this feel a much wasted trip indeed.<p>

The first town they reached Elswyth penned a message and sent it off by hawk to Wiesshaupt inquiring about Nathaniel's whereabouts as well as information regarding the Architect. Taking as few breaks as possible they pushed south, from the determined set of Elswyth's face it was as much to do with Alistair as the darkspawn, despite their amicable parting. It was obvious to all present that she didn't relish the thought of being there when he got home.

It was a dusty and road weary group that burst through the front doors of the Ferelden palace.

"Don't you think we should change before-"

Elswyth interrupted Broderick, "I have no one to impress and no time for niceties," Hawke glanced at Zevran, worry etched on his broad and slightly tanned features. Elswyth was a woman on a mission.

"You should have seen her during the blight," Zevran told him cheerfully. An indecipherable grumble was his only response. Elswyth marched into the throne room as the queen emerged from a side room, surprise on her delicate features.

"Your highness, I respectfully request access to the royal library and the king's personal collections," she said, bowing at the waist as she halted an appropriate distance away. Hawke realized she hadn't been kidding as the rest of the group bowed as well, following Elswyth's example. The queen had a very pale though unmistakable resemblance to Elswyth. The major difference lie in that the queen was human, with obviously human features, but if Elswyth had a human sister, the queen would be it. In interest he watched emotions war over the queen's features.

"I'm afraid his majesty isn't here, you'll have to come ba-"

"That's why I'm here. Now." The queen stared at her in open shock. "I'm on Warden business and I need any records his father may have kept. Maric traveled the deeproads twice. I request access to any journals or reports regarding these occurrences." The queen stared at her, emotions again flitting quickly across her features.

"I'm afraid I can't authorize-"

"Your majesty, I don't have time for games. This is urgent. Don't make me force the issue." That seemed to knock those emotions right out of the queen and her face flushed bright red.

"How dare you! You who refused to let Alistair go! You have no right to demand anything! I thought it a blessing when you'd disappeared! But then Alistair up and leaves-"

"He is in Antiva and it has nothing to do with me, nor did it ever," Hawke kept his face carefully blank at her small lie. "And before you go getting upset about things past let me be absolutely clear, your majesty: he left me for _you_," the queen's mouth snapped shut on whatever retort had been on her tongue. "Because you have something I never will. You're _human_," the queen's mouth worked though no sound came forth, expression fluctuating between indignation and confusion.

"Clearly he couldn't have truly ever loved me, could he? When we were two Wardens struggling against the destruction of all Ferelden it was convenient, even desired. But when push came to shove, when he would have to stand up and fight for our relationship? He folded and dropped me without a second thought," Elswyth took a few slow steps toward her. "Alistair cares for you. He's just a little lost right now. You can help him get through that..."

"I've tried!" she cried, a tear slipping down one cheek.

"You don't know what you're missing until it's not near you anymore. He'll realize when he comes back what he's been taking for granted. Help me _not _be here when he returns," Elswyth implored her with all her waning willpower and the queen regarded her through watery eyes, a new understanding dawning.

"Follow me," with a swish of her skirts she swept from the room, the companions in tow. "Alistair loathes studying, so he does as little as he can get away with, then goes out and 'communes' with his subjects," the fact she was rolling her eyes was clear in her voice.

"Yes, I'd heard he was the 'favored' king," Elswyth replied conversationally, unwilling to let her discomfort ruin the headway she'd made with the other woman.

"So when I'd found a dusty journal hidden in our rooms he never bothered even looking at it or seeing whose it was," she stopped and turned. "It was Maric's," she held out a hand to the door on their left. "The library, and his study is beyond. Help yourselves. I will go retrieve Maric's journal. I hid it again out of spite," the face she made was decidedly unladylike before she hurried off.

"Nice lady," Broderick muttered.

"Yes, quite charming," Zevran was leering after her skirts as she hurried away. Elswyth turned his face toward the door with a palm as she approached it and pushed it open. Immediately they spread out and began perusing the shelves, searching for anything eye catching that may be of aid in their quest. They barely had time to browse the dusty shelves and make a selection before the queen returned, a very worn tome in hand.

"I only browsed its contents as a large portion of it included Warden politics that I do not understand. But I believe of all the books present this will help you the most."

Elswyth nodded her thanks and accepted the proffered tome.

"You'll forgive me if I ask you to _not_ bid farewell when you leave. I'd prefer not to see you again, you understand. Take the journal if need be, he will not miss it," she stated rather frostily from the door.

"We will be gone with all due haste," Elswyth promised her. The queen nodded and disappeared. After only a few minutes of thumbing through the journal she snapped it shut and rose.

"This is all we need. We're adjourning to Vigil's Keep to await word from Weisshaupt," the guys all looked up in surprise from their tomes, then scrambled to put them away as Elswyth made her way to the door.

True to the queen's wishes they left as unobtrusively as possible. Once back on the relative safety of the road Hawke drew alongside the brooding elf.

"That journal is really _all_ you need?" he pressed.

"This," she held up the worn, seemingly innocuous book, "details Maric's two trips into the deeproads, all the events surrounding them, and all contact he'd had with the Wardens," she paused a moment. "It also appears to detail his fascination with elves," she gave him a sidelong look as he stared at her with a mixed expression.

"Like father-like son," he grumbled. The rest of the trip was completed in relative silence.

Hawke aimlessly wandered the castle later that night. To say it was a relief to be clean and to have an actual bed to sleep in would be a massive understatement. As always his wayward thoughts wound their way inevitably back to Elswyth. Immediately upon arrival she sequestered herself in her office and her eyes had not left that damn tome except to eat and clean up briefly.

It had been somewhat amusing when they'd first approached the gates. Long before they even reached them the portal had been flung wide open and a greying man had come running out, flanked by several guards. At first Hawke had thought something was amiss, but the man who he later learned was Seneschal Varel, Elswyth's second in command and the overseer of the Vigil's day to day affairs, was so overjoyed he could hardly speak. The bear hug he picked up the slight elf with left her red faced and stammering. Apparently she had left in the dead of night with hardly more than a note to tell him he was in charge and she may never be coming back.

Cheers had risen up to meet them as they were ushered within and Hawke had a sense of déjà vu glancing around at all the adoring and joyous faces of her soldiers. It almost made him nostalgic for the clamoring fans he'd left behind in Kirkwall. A glance at her flushed and very uncomfortable expression brought a grin to his face. _Almost_.

Without realizing where he'd been wandering lost in thought he found himself before the door to her study. It wasn't locked, so he let himself in quietly. The space was dimly lit, only with a few candles and a sconce or two along the walls. Sparse in decorations except for a painting of a mabari above the darkened fireplace, books and papers lay strewn on every surface. Shelves equally packed lined almost every wall. It struck him as odd considering most elves don't know how to read.

Elswyth herself sat at a desk by the window that dwarfed her and made her appear even smaller than usual. However instead of pouring still over the aged and cracked pages she sat, facing the window, glazed eyes staring past the reflective glass into the darkness beyond, one hand holding the book open on the only clear surface, a far off expression on her face.

Finally, when he moved further into the room she took notice of him, looking up as though in a daze.

"This book gave me far more than I asked for," she glanced down at it, though her eyes were still glazed, not really seeing it. "There is so much more to the darkspawn than I'd thought... and... Alistair's mother was a Grey Warden... a mage... and an elf."

Hawke's mouth dropped at that last one. "She... what? But he...?"

She sighed and stood, moving to the window. "Apparently Alistair doesn't know. And Maric theorized that because of the taint in her he was born with his father's traits almost exclusively, which is why he _looks_ human. Her name was Fiona. She couldn't keep him, as a Grey Warden, but neither could Maric as Rowan had been dead some time, and he'd never remarried. Conveniently Arl Eamon had a servant girl who had recently died in childbirth, losing the child as well. So they developed a cover story and Alistair was raised by Eamon," she paused, crossing her arms, covering her lips with thin fingers and gazing out into nothing. "I don't think he needs to learn of this..."

"Why not?-"

"Think about it. He left me because I'm an elf. If he found out... he's finally beginning to let go. I can't let anything jeopardize that... not yet. Perhaps sometime in the future."

Hawke nodded slowly, now understanding her reasoning.

"You mentioned the darkspawn..."

She nodded. "The entries confirm my fears. I met the same Architect he mentions, a number of years ago. From the sounds of it the decades between capturing Maric and accosting me changed him little. The description is uncanny. But it's confirmed. Intelligent darkspawn are a creation of both the taint and Warden blood. Those of us that survive the joining, something about our blood makes us immune to the mind control effect of the archdemon's song and slows the onset of the taint. It also confirmed Wardens all inevitably succumb to the taint and become darkspawn. Eventually I will look like one of those disciples," she grimaced. "Only a shriek version," an image of Tamlen's twisted face rose before her sightless eyes and she shivered despite herself.

With a sigh she sat back down. "The Architect wanted to force the joining on all mortals and then the Warden blood in turn on all darkspawn. This would end the blights he said, because the darkspawn would no longer seek out the old gods mindlessly. He almost convinced the Commander of the Grey at the time to go along with him... her and her brother. But ultimately he failed. They all died except three of them and the Architect vanished, never to be heard from again until I met him. This concerns me however," she touched the journal gingerly, as though just the contact might taint her. "The Architect needs Warden blood. It's likely he took some from me and possibly my companions while we were captive. But to turn all mortals Warden..." she rubbed her face and stared off into space, resting her elbows on her knees. "To me, that sounds like a lot of Warden blood at his disposal. I severely doubt his intentions are pure. And the casualty rates?" she shook her head.

"To think, all that information sat, unshared, since before Maric's death," Reven said, crossing his arms.

"He and the two surviving Wardens, Fiona and Duncan, deemed it too risky. Considering the Commander and her brother almost helped the Architect succeed?" she gazed at him, eyes narrowed, thinking. "It says they decided not to inform Weisshaupt and they created a different story of what they found. Apparently they barely survived their final encounter with the Architect. I need to know how much Weisshaupt knows, or how much they've discovered. My reports during the rise of the broodmother were definitely sent to Weisshaupt, but I had thought they ignored them. Hopefully we hear from them soon."

Reven nodded as she leaned back and stared out the window again.

"You should get some sleep..."

She was already shaking her head. "With this new knowledge and my worsening nightmares..." she shook her head again. He nodded in understanding.

"Well at least _rest._ Stop incessantly researching, perhaps have them draw you a bath or something," the withering look she gave him was telling. "Don't look at me like that, I'm serious! You've been going non-stop with barely any restful sleep. I'm sure the last thing you'd want is to finally break from the stress and lack of sleep when we're in the deeproads." Her face completely froze. Memories of their foray to find the paragon Branka still haunted her. The deeproads again... she suppressed a shudder. What was she thinking?

Reven watched her in careful interest. "Struck a nerve?"

She glanced at him disparagingly. "I hate the deeproads. Dwarves are freaks of nature for living with so much rock above them."

Reven smiled. "I couldn't agree more." Slowly, deliberately he moved around the desk until he stood before her, her large eyes blinking slowly as she watched him curiously, not saying anything yet. With a tenderness that made her forget how deadly those hands were he brushed errant hair from her face, her eyes sliding shut, leaning her face into his hand as he caressed her cheek with his palm, his fingers lightly following her jaw. One calloused thumb caressed the dark circle under her eye as his other hand came up, cradling her face with both hands, slowly dropping to his knees in front of her, now slightly looking up into her relaxed features.

Those glittering silver eyes cracked open slightly as he continued thumbing her cheeks tenderly, his long fingers tangling in the dark hair around her ears. Their breaths came softly as he leaned in, pulling her closer and capturing her lips, reveling in the petal softness of hers against his mouth. Unable to help himself their kiss grew more urgent, pulling at them both until they were breathless, leaning into one another for support. Finally he pulled back enough to let them catch a breath, teasingly brushing their lips as they panted.

"I could always _help_ you relax," he offered seductively, already knowing the answer, but doing so knowing it would give her something more positive to think about.

She chuckled, her warm breath tickling the rough hairs around his mouth. "You're incorrigible," she teased.

"And you love it," he smiled at her disarmingly.

The next morning Elswyth sat on the angled roof of one of the spires, watching the grey clouds roll in. The snow they'd run into in Arlathan would soon blanket Ferelden. With elven eyes she gazed over the landscape and contemplated all that had happened. Fully processing so much information was taking her some time. Haze hung thick over the hills and forests, but she didn't need to see them to know what the view looked like. This had been a favorite perch of hers for years.

One lean arm rested on her knee and in turn her chin rested on her arm, staring out at the softly meandering haze. She'd almost taken Reven up on his offer last night. Perhaps she _should_ have. Warmth flooded her as the memory of his touch and kiss came back to her and she shivered in the cool of the morning. Frustration mounted quickly on the heels of those feelings and she sighed quietly. Why was she having such a hard time giving in to this? Alistair was hardly even a whisper in her mind when Reven was about. So why?

The question didn't need to be asked, she knew the answer. It didn't matter though, he would follow her, relationship or not, she knew that now. To continue denying him would only shorten their already numbered days together. Something in her mind broke a formerly impenetrable barrier and it was decided, at the first opportunity...

Keen elven hearing picked up the screech of a hawk and her head whipped around, searching the haze for a sign of the bird. When it finally faded into existence she scrambled to the roof peak and whistled sharply. The graceful creatures banked in her direction and she waited impatiently as it drew near. Buffeting its wings as it alighted on her outstretched arm it landed and she ignored the talons burying in her skin as it gripped for purchase. Eagerly she detached the missive from the familiar creature before sending it off below to be fed and cared for.

Arm dripping crimson she quickly made her way down to her study and broke the seal, spreading the parchment carefully open on her desk.

Hawke came dashing in followed by Zevran a few moments later. The assassin immediately clucked his tongue and grabbed a cloth to sop up the blood running down her arm and all over her desk.

"You really need to let someone with a gauntlet retrieve the messages," he chided her as he wrapped Elswyth's forearm, the woman in question completely ignoring him in favor of reading. It was overtly obvious to Hawke that this was a recurring problem.

"They sent him to the deeproads four years ago, to research intelligent darkspawn," her head snapped up, eyes locked on Hawke. "When did you say you saw Nathaniel?"

"Uh," he sighed, rubbing the back of his head, "a little over three years ago? But I saw him again on the surface. He helped me when Meredith went berserk, but then he said he was going to be returning. He'd been in town to resupply."

"They haven't heard from him in some time, this says he was supposed to report back months ago..." springing from her chair she made a bee-line for her pack.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there-" Hawke put out both hands placatingly.

"Nathaniel might be down there still, and what he's doing is vital. With both our resources we may be able to figure this thing out..."

"I call bullshit," Hawke put his hands on his hips and her movements slowed. "Yes, this is important, but this frenzy isn't _just_ about intelligent darkspawn, is it?"

She glanced up at him hesitantly. "No... Nathaniel is a Warden because of me... I conscripted him..." Hawke raised his eyebrow. "It saved his life," she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him. "But it was against his will. He's become a remarkable Warden, but I can't help feeling responsible for his safety..." her words trailed off as she fiddled with her pack uncomfortably.

Hawke grinned. "So he's like your Warden kid."

Her head snapped up. "What?! No! I-" her face flushed deep red as Zevran burst out laughing.

"That is the _perfect_ description, my friend," he said slapping Hawke's shoulder. "She always was like a protective mother hen with that one. She even took down that terrifying portrait of his mother for him."

"In my defense it was _indeed_ terrifying... and once I found out he hated her and it was ok to take it down..."

"Whatever happened to it?"

"I think he burned it," both Elswyth and Zevran stared at one another with odd raised brow expressions and Hawke felt like he'd missed something. "Either way," she said breaking the silence and turning back to her pack, "that letter confirms it, Nathaniel hasn't been heard of since his last expedition into the deeproads and-"

"Elswyth," Zevran's voice had an edge to it that made her flinch slightly. She'd only ever heard him use that tone with her a bare few times. "You didn't tell us about the contents of the rest of the letter." Slowly she turned to see him standing at her desk, holding up the letter with a scolding look on his features, his other hand on his hip. She shrugged helplessly, cursing herself for not holding onto the damned thing and Reven looked between them confused.

"What? What is it?" he asked, though Zevran's eyes never left her.

"Apparently the council at Weisshaupt feels our dear Ferelden Commander of the Grey is unstable, since word of her disappearance reached them. They want her to come to Weisshaupt immediately for questioning.

"They're mad if they think that's going to happen," she grumbled, crossing her arms and scowling. "There's nothing wrong with me! I just needed a vacation!"

"They also express concern over your knowledge of Nathaniel's mission and believe you were withholding information in your report about intelligent darkspawn?" he'd continued reading and his eyebrow raised at that last part. "But Nathaniel's report matched your own, as did Ander's. I don't see how they could-"

"The council at Weisshaupt is a bunch of stuffy idiots who haven't held a sword or weapon in decades. When Ferelden needed Wardens most they were nowhere to be found," she knew the assessment wasn't accurate, but in her irritation she didn't care. "I'm not submitting myself to their _wisdom_, they haven't even seen a darkspawn in their whole lives, yet I defeated the horde and the broodmother. So they can stuff it!"

Hawke suppressed a chuckle and Broderick chose that moment to come barreling through the door, stopping abruptly, out of breath, all eyes on him.

"Okay, what'd I miss?"

"I'm going to the deeproads," Elswyth said flatly.

"As am I," Hawke said still chuckling.

"Same for me," Zevran quipped.

"Oh, pity's sake, woman, if you ask me if I'm coming or not, I swear on Andraste's knickers-" Broderick interrupted himself to their chuckles, a broad grin breaking his features.

"Then pack your bag," she said with a smile.

Through much discussion and debate a deeproads entry point had finally been decided upon. Though both Maric and Elswyth had encountered the Architect in Ferelden the most recent activity had been outside Kirkwall. This was also where Hawke had met Nathaniel and had run into the mysterious Wardens in the city. Time was of the essence now so they forewent anonymity and used fame to their advantage, commandeering a boat and sailing for Kirkwall, hoping against hope to still manage to evade the Seekers and apparently Lelianna who sought them both out.

This latter fact still bothered Elswyth, for she felt rather than knew that Lelianna's search for her was not borne of friendly camaraderie. Once an ally and friend, Elswyth was afraid this may no longer hold sway. The Chantry had always had a vice like grip on the former bard. Now she was afraid their claws may have sunk deeply into the red haired woman.

Fortune was with them, for without the assistance of mages word could not pass quickly enough to Kirkwall of their arrival, and they would not be followed into the deeproads. This allowed them to slip through and out of the city without being accosted.

With all due haste Elswyth led them into the wilderness around Sundermount, in the direction of their chosen entrance.

As they drew near a creepy feeling pricked up Elswyth's spine and she called them silently to a halt. Stalking unheard she barely noted the presence of Hawke at her back as she crept closer, keeping low and under cover. Bow and arrow in hand she finally came into view of the ancient, dwarven hewn, sealed entrance and stopped dead at the sight of the figure sitting casually on the stonework, staring right at her boredly.

"Now is that any way to greet an old friend?" came the familiar, silky voice.

"Morrigan," Elswyth responded quietly.

"Flemeth's daughter?" Reven asked from behind her, daggers still out.

"Indeed, dear Champion. How amusing was it for me, to learn you two were traveling together."

"What about... your..." Elswyth couldn't form the words.

"My _son_ is somewhere safe..." Morrigan supplied. Zevran and Broderick came up behind them then. "The elf who _hates_ the deeproads returns. The Architect poses enough of a threat then? For surely she wouldn't bring colleagues to her Calling," she paused as though deep in thought and Elswyth couldn't help feeling a wave of nostalgia, remembering the word play when they first met in the swamps. "Except maybe Alistair. Though I don't blame you. I'd feed him to the darkspawn myself if I could," Hawke watched uncertainly as Elswyth slowly scaled the uphill distance between her and the witch, their eyes locked.

Finally the elf stood before her, their silent battle unbroken. Abruptly they embraced, Morrigan's chuckle could be heard rolling down the hill. The rest of the troupe drew nearer, but did not exactly relax, except Zevran. Finally the two women drew back, Elswyth holding her friend at arm's length.

"You haven't changed a bit," she said quietly.

Morrigan chuckled again. "I do not employ my mother's tricks if that's what you mean by that."

Elswyth actually laughed. Reven suppressed a stab of jealousy. The witch could make her laugh so easily?

"Elswyth, do not do this," Morrigan was suddenly serious and Elswyth sighed, moving away to lean on a boulder.

"Is that the witch talking?"

"No, your friend," she emphasized the last word carefully, reminding Elswyth just what that meant, whispered conversations lit by campfire floating back to them both, memories of times gone.

"Where was my friend while I suffered?"

"Closer than you think," she replied emphatically, "and that is not fair, Elswyth, you _know_ where..." she stopped herself there as Elswyth sighed again. "Have you so easily forgotten the last time? Or the time before? You cannot keep doing this. You are going to speed the taint along. To toy with darkness is to become darkness. You know this. Such is why I do not disapprove of blood magic, but do not use it myself... _you_ showed me this. Would you ignore your own council?"

Hawke noticed Elswyth didn't even question how the witch knew their purpose.

"Morrigan, the darkspawn-"

"Will _always_ be a threat. No need to throw yourself to the void for an endless horde."

"No, it's different this time. And you _know_ it. All those Wardens who descend to their Calling, has it not crossed your mind that the Architect might be using their blood to create _more_ intelligent darkspawn? A mindless swarm controlled by the archdemon is one thing. But an unstoppable horde with the cunning of our best warriors? They don't eat, they don't sleep. Sentient or not they are a _plague_."

"Like mages?"

Elswyth didn't even flinch. "Absolutely not. Darkspawn do not reproduce. They do not have the weakness of the mortal races, they taint the ground they walk on. Their sole purpose is to corrupt and destroy. A good intentioned darkspawn will still subvert everything around it. A good intentioned mage can save as many people as a bad intentioned mage can kill. Just like normal people, and you know this, so don't pull that crap with me."

Morrigan actually smiled. "'Tis one thing I always liked about you."

"Lies, you don't like anyone," Zevran quipped with a grin.

"No. Just promiscuous and ill mannered Crows," she sneered back.

"Oh, good thing I have manners and am no longer a Crow, then," he smiled at her disarmingly.

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"I appreciate your concern, but you _know_ I have to do this," Elswyth said and they both stared hard at one another for quite a few moments.

"I know..." the witch nodded. "That is why I am coming with you," she hoisted her until then unseen pack from behind a ruin. Elswyth nodded as though she'd been expecting this.

"Not to dampen things any, but I'm going to have to interject here..." Broderick stepped forward and spoke up. "I've been pretty understanding thus far, but are we really going to bring the 'Witch of the Wilds' into the deeproads with us?"

"She's not _the_ Witch of the Wilds, she's just Flemeth's daughter... and we're not even sure she wasn't adopted-"

"Oh, you make it sound so blasé," Morrigan drawled, crossing her arms.

"And furthermore, she's my friend and I trust her... plus mages are great to have around. You always have light that way."

"We are _not_ walking sconces for your _convenience_!" Morrigan objected as Elswyth grinned broadly. Broderick still looked concerned but wisely held his peace.

Morrigan sized him up briefly. "Another templar? One would have thought you would have learned your lesson from the last one," she said, her eyes shifting to Elswyth.

"Alistair wasn't a _real_ templar. Besides, Broderick seems to have proven himself to be twice as smart and three times as useful," she replied with an impish smile.

"_Widget_ was too," Morrigan said back blandly.

"Aww, you _do _remember his name. You had a soft spot for him, I knew it."

"That mangy mutt was disgusting and smelly, I do not know _why_ you kept it around." Elswyth gave a sad smile and Morrigan immediately softened. "Well we are not getting any younger. Just how did you plan on opening the door without any arcane knowledge?" she teased, heading for the stone door.

"I kind of had been hoping Broderick could purge the enchantment or something," she said lamely.

"And _that_ would have just turned it to solid rock, silly girl," Morrigan chided, stepping lightly to the door and pulling out a scroll from her pack. "Dwarves may not be magic users themselves, but they use lyrium much to the same effect." Magic spun through her fingers and after a few moments the door cracked open enough to let them through.

"Why the magic doors? They keeping stuff out?" asked Broderick curiously as he followed Zevran through the portal, stepping uncertainly past the witch.

"The dwarves sealed the entrances to keep things _in_ actually. Many of the accesses to the surface world were cut off to prevent the darkspawn from swarming the surface," she replied as torches were pulled out and lit, the witch sealing it behind them with a boom that spoke of finality.

"Judging from the last blight it doesn't work very well," he shrugged as Zevran handed him a torch.

"In truth, it does. They must find other access points to the surface. Which is why they do not simply swarm every city, one by one, decimating us all," Broderick distinctly disliked the way her gold eyes glittered at him in the torchlight.

"Alright, judging from our entry point on this map we are... quite a few miles from where you ran into Nathaniel," she sighed. "But he could have headed _anywhere_ by now."

"Do not defeat yourself before you have begun," Morrigan chided her and Hawke began to see why they were such good friends despite their massive differences.

Steeling themselves they somberly began their trek into the smothering darkness.


End file.
